Arsenic and Old Mates
by laoisbabe
Summary: Gibbs returns to Mexico to help Franks out of a jam. But as usual trouble ensues. Hurt Tony & hurt Gibbs. Final chapters up!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N - This is a sequel to my last NCIS story "Loose Lips Sink Ships" altough it took a while to get around to it. It would probably put the story in context if you read that one first but I am trying to write it so that it will also stand alone. Hope you like it! Thanks also to Diane, my fab BETA.**_

Chapter 1

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood outside the decorative oak door, his nerves jangling. His right hand felt for his weapon out of habit, his usual preference to allay his fears, but it wasn't there. He checked his watch. It was time. He reached for the handle and slowly opened the door. Nervously, he entered the room.

"Ah, Jethro, you're actually on time," she said, turning to welcome him and sounding surprised.

"Yeah, just thought I'd keep you on your toes," he smiled, as he walked to the couch beside her.

Dr. Hilary Redmond sat with her slender legs crossed and her spectacles perched low on her nose. She had an open file on her lap and a pen in her hand.

"So, how have you been since we last met?" she asked him, sociably, but also in her professional capacity.

"Good," Gibbs replied typically.

Dr. Redmond was Gibbs' counsellor. Ducky had recommended her to him, to aid his recovery after he had been kidnapped and tortured while in Mexico several months previously. Ducky, being the sort of friend that he was, was concerned about the effect such a harrowing trauma could have on his friend. The physical effects were fading but it was the psychological ones that bothered him. Gibbs had hated the idea of going to a therapist but Vance, the NCIS director, had made it a condition of his return to active duty that he attended counselling. So between Vance and Ducky, he was left with little choice. Much as he hated to admit it, it was working out quite well. He found that talking to someone was actually helping him, especially being able to open up about the physical and mental trauma he had suffered at the hands of Raul and Estella Hernandez, the son and daughter of a man he had killed many years ago, the man who murdered his family.

They had subjected him to horrendous torture and had almost killed him. If it hadn't been for Tony, Ziva, McGee and Ducky, they would have succeeded. Then months later, when Gibbs was finally well enough to return to his suburban Washington home, Estella Hernandez turned up on his doorstep. She had nothing but revenge on her mind. She made a good attempt at finishing him off, almost killing Abby in the process. Luckily for both of them, the team got there in the nick of time and McGee ended up shooting and killing Estella.

Gibbs was glad that the whole episode was over. He was back at work and glad to be there. His physical injuries hardly caused him any trouble any more. His hip ached now and again and felt stiff if he stayed sitting in one position very long, and the headaches were becoming far less frequent. His team had finally stopped treating him with kid gloves…. well, almost. Outwardly he appeared to be back to his old self. However, underneath he was still struggling, finding it hard to sleep and when he was able to steal a couple of hours, more often than not, they were haunted by nightmares.

Gibbs never spoke about his therapy and his team were unaware that he was attending. Only Ducky and Director Vance were in the loop. That was the way Gibbs wanted it to stay. The sessions with Dr. Redmond had really helped and he was starting to enjoy the time he was spending with her. She was a very attractive woman, about ten years younger than he with burnt auburn hair and pale features. She was definitely his type. He found it effortless to relax in her company. Her smile put him at ease and allowed him to open up. She had a certain quality; he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but whatever it was, he liked it.

He removed his coat and settled back into the couch.

"So, where did we finish up last time?" Dr. Redmond asked, her eyes meeting his. So began another session. For the next hour they talked like old friends, Gibbs revealing to her things that he would never tell another living soul. As their session drew to a close, he felt a pang of disappointment. What he really wanted to do was ask her to dinner that night, but he knew that she only saw him as another patient and decided against it.

Gibbs left Dr. Redmond's office and hurried over to the Navy Yard. He stopped for his mandatory coffee fix before continuing on to the office. He arrived later than usual and by the time he got there, his team were all at their desks.

"Morning, Boss," DiNozzo and McGee piped up almost in unison.

"Good morning, Gibbs," Ziva said cheerfully, as Gibbs sat down behind his desk. As usual, the only acknowledgement they received was a quick nod of the head from their team leader.

"Everything all right, Boss?" DiNozzo asked bravely. It was unusual for Gibbs to be late in the mornings although Tony had noticed it happening on a few occasions since his return from injury. He presumed it was something medical and couldn't help but worry.

Gibbs looked up and threw a cutting glare in DiNozzo's direction. Tony knew better than to push it any further and put his head down and started typing feverishly on his keyboard. Gibbs allowed himself a wry smile at Tony's dramatic retreat. He secretly got a kick out of winding him up.

Gibbs was sipping his coffee when a voice boomed from the walkway above.

"Agent Gibbs! My office, now!"

Gibbs looked up while everyone else in the office turned and did the same. It was Director Vance and by the sound of it, he wasn't in a very good mood. Deliberately, Gibbs paused, took another long sip from his coffee cup before stiffly getting to his feet. His hip, where Estella had shot him, still niggled in the mornings. He started up the stairs to the first floor, a slight limp evident, and was watched every step of the way by his team. As he vanished from their sights, they couldn't help but comment.

"What do you think that's about?" DiNozzo asked, curiously.

"No idea but it sounds like the boss is going to get chewed up," McGee replied.

"Whatever it is, the director sure sounds mad," Ziva pointed out.

"I'd hate to be in Gibbs' shoes right now," Tony quipped. The others nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile upstairs, Gibbs entered the office of NCIS Director Leon Vance. Vance was standing staring out of his office window, with his back to Gibbs. Gibbs shut the door and approached his director. As he did so, Vance turned and let a deep sigh before removing the toothpick from his mouth. Gibbs mentally braced himself. He had no idea what was bothering his superior but knew it had to be something major to rattle him like this.

"Sit," Vance ordered, motioning him towards the chair across from him.

Gibbs sat in silence, waiting for Vance to fill him in. Vance took up position in his own leather chair and placed his elbows on his desk and leaned across towards Gibbs.

"I've just got off the phone with the State Department. It seems that a former NCIS agent has got himself arrested…..in Mexico…..," Vance said, watching for Gibbs reaction. As usual, there wasn't much evidence of a reaction in his stony face, so he continued. "….for murder, no less!"

"Franks?" Gibbs asked, pretty sure he now knew why Vance was bringing him in over this.

"You've guessed it. Former Special Agent Michael Franks no less," Vance confirmed, with a hint of sarcasm.

"So who did they say he murdered?" Gibbs asked.

"Well now, that's what's disturbing me. It's a twenty-year-old murder. You might recognise the name, Pedro Hernandez?" Vance enquired, knowing right well that Gibbs would know the name.

He watched as Gibbs' face paled slightly and his forehead creased. He knew the name. Of course he knew the name. No man could forget the name of the person responsible for the death of his family. Vance knew this. He also suspected that Gibbs had exacted his revenge on Senor Hernandez, but could never prove it and had no real desire to do so. However, news of Franks' arrest disturbed him. He feared it was going to open up a whole new can of worms.

"Where is he?" Gibbs asked, unflinching.

"Franks? He's being held in Chihauhua until his arraignment. It's due to take place this Thursday," Vance informed him.

"When do I leave?" Gibbs asked confidently.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea that you go at all, Agent Gibbs. You didn't exactly make any friends on your last visit," Vance reminded him.

"He can't stay locked up, Leon. He's innocent," Gibbs told him strongly.

"I know he is. I also know that JAG will be sending a lawyer to represent him," Vance explained. "He'll get him out."

"I need to be there, Leon. Mike's sick and I'm all he has. I owe him," Gibbs told Vance openly.

"I know you feel close to Franks, Gibbs, but you need to stop and think about this. Did it even cross your mind that this may just be a ploy to get you back in the country? It would certainly give Raul Hernandez the opportunity to finish what he started," Vance pointed out.

"I won't let my friend take the fall for me, Leon. I'm going to Mexico. Now I can go it alone, but it would be a whole lot easier if I had your backing on this," Gibbs said, hoping his boss would approve it.

Vance looked at him seriously.

"You know, Gibbs, I'm regretting it already, but okay. Go! But you take DiNozzo with you as back up. I don't want you or Franks coming back in body bags, agreed?" Vance declared, looking Gibbs straight in the eyes.

Gibbs just nodded. He got to his feet and turned towards the door.

"Send DiNozzo up," Vance called after him as he walked away.

Gibbs returned to the bullpen area his expression no different from when he left. His team watched as he walked back around his desk and sat down. He looked over at Tony and told him that the director was looking for him.

Tony scampered up to the director's office, trotting past Cynthia, his secretary, and let himself in.

"Agent DiNozzo," Vance said, motioning the young agent to the seat in front of him.

"Director," Tony said sitting down. His curiosity was pricked and he was anxious to know what was going on.

"Agent Gibbs is going back to Mexico and …." Vance began, before Tony interrupted.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I wish I was but as I said, he's is going back to Mexico and I need you to accompany him and, well, for want of a better phrase, keep him out of trouble," Vance said, seriously.

"Can I ask why he's going back?" Tony asked, astonished that Gibbs was returning and, not only that, but with the director's blessing.

"Mike Franks," Vance replied, sounding exasperated. Tony looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "He's been arrested for the murder of Pedro Hernandez."

"Pedro Hernandez? Isn't that the guy who ….?" Tony began before Vance interjected.

"Exactly!" Vance replied. "So you see my concern."

Tony saw all right but couldn't understand why Vance wasn't ordering Gibbs to stay out of it.

"So why are you letting him go then?" Tony asked, trying not to sound disrespectful.

"Do you really think I could stop him?" Vance replied, by way of explanation. "This is Gibbs we're talking about. At least if I okay his trip he'll have you as back up."

Tony knew he was right. The last time Gibbs got in trouble in Mexico, he was alone and it almost cost him his life.

"A JAG lawyer is taking a flight at 9 pm. I've arranged for the two of you to join him," Vance informed him.

"Okay then. Better pack my sun block," Tony quipped, as he stood up to leave.

"And DiNozzo," Vance called him back. "Don't let him do anything stupid."

Tony laughed nervously.

"Ha, ha…. like I could stop him," Tony replied and then closed the door behind him. He scurried back down the stairs to the bullpen. He noticed that Gibbs was no longer behind his desk.

"Where's the boss?" Tony asked McGee, as he reached his own desk.

"He left shortly after you went upstairs. He didn't say where he was going," McGee explained.

"Mexico," Tony replied, as a matter of fact.

"What?" Ziva exclaimed, hoping her ears were deceiving her.

"Yep, south of the border," Tony informed them.

"Why?" Ziva asked, a tinge of worry permeating her voice.

"Mike bloody Franks," Tony stated. "He got himself arrested for murder. Vance has asked me to keep an eye on Gibbs."

"Seriously? I mean the boss won't exactly be impressed if he hears you're the babysitter," McGee pointed out.

"Ya think, McGee? Well maybe that's why I'm not going to mention that," Tony replied cynically. "I gotta go and pack. See you guys when we get back."

Tony grabbed his backpack and headed for the elevator. He knew Gibbs had more than likely gone home to get ready. Tony planned to throw a few things into a bag and to head over to Gibbs' house after that. Road trip with the boss........uncomfortable to say the least.

**_A/n - Changed a confusing line or two since the original post. _**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gibbs decided to have a quick shower before changing and packing for his flight to Mexico. He stripped naked and stood looking at the old man staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. He was starting to feel his youth slipping away. He looked at the raised ugly scar on his left shoulder where Estella Hernandez had twisted her knife in his healed bullet wound. His body bore several other reminders of his last visit to Baja. He looked down and allowed his hand to glance over the circular scar on his hip where Estella's bullet had torn into him. Unconsciously, his left hand ran through his silver hair and he felt the scar above his ear. Memories of his torture at the hands of the Hernandez siblings were never far from his mind. He wondered how much more his body could take.

He turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm. His mind was troubled about what to do when he got to Mexico. By the time he stood under the comforting jets of warm water he had made his decision. One way or the other, this whole nightmare was going to end. It had been going on for nearly twenty years. As the water cascaded over his head and down his back, he closed his eyes and allowed visions of Shannon and Kelly's smiling faces to invade the darkness. But soon the face of their killer seeped in and anger grew within him. He opened his eyes wide and let the sharp jets of water sting his eyes and wash away the sight that haunted him. He stood for a while, his hands leaning on the tiled wall, his head bowed and let the water wash over him. Shortly after, he decided to get out. He turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel as he did. He tied the towel around his waist and reached for the door handle. Just then, the door unexpectedly swung open towards him, startling him.

"Boss?"

"Jeez, DiNozzo. What the hell are you doing here?" Gibbs snarled at the shocked young agent.

"Woah! Sorry, Boss. I was calling you and when I didn't get a response I got worried," Tony admitted, unable to avoid staring at Gibbs' scars.

"Seen enough?" Gibbs said crossly, when he noticed Tony lingering stare.

"What? Oh, sorry, Boss. I'll wait downstairs," Tony replied, feeling a little self-conscious. He walked out and stood on the landing outside.

"What are you doing here, Tony?" Gibbs shouted out, as he started to dry himself off.

"I, eh, thought I'd give you a ride to the airport," Tony answered loudly through the closed door.

"And what made you think that?" Gibbs asked, knowing all too well that Vance and DiNozzo had been chatting before he left the office.

"Well, you see, the director asked me to go to Mexico with you. He wanted me to …." Tony paused, searching for the correct turn of phrase.

"Baby-sit me?" Gibbs responded.

"No! _Nooo_! God no!" Tony replied all too hastily. "I was going to say provide back up, maybe help you out, you know, with my language skills and all."

"Tony, even I speak better Spanish than you do," Gibbs laughed, as he pulled on a fresh t-shirt.

"You do, Boss. Don't know what I was thinking," Tony replied, mentally kicking himself for his failure to convince Gibbs.

"All right, DiNozzo, but I'm driving," Gibbs said, as he walked out of his bedroom, tucking his shirt into his pants as he went. He jogged downstairs and into his living room. He threw a couple of spare shirts and socks into the bag on the floor. "We're on a military hop, right?" Gibbs asked, taking his weapon and checking it.

"Yep," Tony replied, watching Gibbs double-check his Sig Sauer. "Are you planning on using that, Boss?"

"Nope," Gibbs replied curtly. What he had in mind didn't involve using his weapon, but he always felt comfort knowing it was there, if and when he needed it.

"Are you packed?" Gibbs asked Tony.

"I grabbed a few things on my way here," he replied.

"Good, let's go then," Gibbs said, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. As they walked to the car, Gibbs walked around to the driver's side.

"Keys!" he demanded from Tony. He tossed them over the roof of the car and sat in the passenger seat. As he buckled up and braced himself for Gibbs' infamous driving, he wondered what awaited them in Mexico. The thought was only going through his head when his cell phone rang.

"DiNozzo," he answered quickly. "Oh, hey, Abs."

Gibbs turned and looked at him at the mention of his favourite Forensic Specialist. He couldn't hear her but could see by Tony's expression that he was getting a telling off.

"Okay…..but…….it wasn't my idea, Abs!" he protested. Another pause ensued.

"Of course I remember, Abs. I was there too, remember?" Tony reminded her. "Eh, okay," he said before lowering the cell and offering it to Gibbs. "She wants to talk to you, Boss."

Gibbs took the phone from Tony's outstretched hand.

"Hey, Abby," Gibbs said, already knowing what she had to say.

"Gibbs, are you out of your mind? Don't you remember what happened to you the last time you were in Mexico? I mean we nearly lost you and I don't know what we'd do if we lost you. Don't go, Gibbs, please," Abby pleaded.

"Abby, I'll be fine. I'll see you when I get back," he replied, not falling for her passionate pleas.

"Gibbs?" Abby responded forlornly.

"Bye, Abs," Gibbs said sternly, pressing the end call button on Tony's phone. He handed Tony back the phone, feeling a little guilty but determined. The rest of the drive was uneventful and filled with awkward silence.

* * *

Back at NCIS headquarters, Abby put down her phone in disgust. _When I get my hands on him! How could he take such a risk? Why isn't anyone stopping him?_ All these thoughts were buzzing through her mind and she was mumbling to herself when she turned to find Ducky standing in her lab smiling, amused at her antics.

"Is everything all right, my dear?" Ducky asked, noticing her unease.

"All right? Of course it's not all right. Surely you could have stopped him. He listens to you, Ducky. Now he's on his way back there and God knows what's going to happen to him," she blurted, panic in her voice.

"Abigail, what are you talking about?" Ducky asked, taking her by her two arms and stopping her pacing.

"Gibbs, of course," Abby replied, as if he should know.

"What has he done now?" Ducky asked with a slight hint of exasperation in his tone.

"You don't know?" Abby asked in surprise.

"My dear, I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," Ducky admitted.

"Oh, Ducky! He's going back to Mexico, tonight! According to McGee, Franks got arrested and Gibbs and Tony are going down there to help sort it out. I'm so worried," Abby declared, "especially after what happened the last time."

"I can't say I blame you," Ducky agreed. "Does the director know?"

"As far as I know he sanctioned the trip. Doesn't he care what happens to Gibbs?" Abby asked, starting to get emotional. Ducky noticed her distress and gave her a comforting hug.

"Don't worry, Abby. Jethro knows what he's getting into. He'll be fine. Anyway, he's got Anthony to look after him," Ducky reminded her. Try as he did, his words offered little in the way of consolation.

* * *

It was dark by the time DiNozzo and Gibbs reached Andrews Air Force Base. They parked their car outside a hangar and unloaded their bags. They were met by one of the pilots. He directed them inside the hangar and introduced them to Major Charles Moran, the JAG lawyer who was assigned Mike Franks' case. He was accompanied by Lt. Tina Wyler. They all introduced themselves and exchanged handshakes. Tony beamed a broad, flirty smile when he took the hand of Lt. Wyler. Gibbs rolled his eyes to heaven having seen Tony in action all too often. _A distraction - just what he needs!_

"So, where's our ride?" Tony asked, looking around the empty hangar.

"That's her out there," the pilot pointed out to the tarmac.

They all turned and looked at the sleek white twin-engine Gulfstream jet that waited on the tarmac.

"A C37A," the pilot informed them, unable to hide is admiration for his plane.

"Ah, sweet!" Tony exclaimed. "Beats rattling around in the Hercules."

Even Gibbs couldn't help but agree, although he kept it to himself. A comfortable journey would give him a chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep, he hoped. They all walked to the waiting aircraft and found their seats. Pretty soon they were airborne. Tony conveniently found himself sitting beside Lt. Wyler while Gibbs was happy to take a seat far from anyone. The plane was practically empty, which meant there was no shortage of empty seats. Gibbs settled back and relaxed as the flight to Chihuahua, Mexico was going to be a long one.

**_A/N - Still laying the foundations. Next chapter will be up soon. Reviews always appreciated._**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Several hours later they disembarked their aircraft at Chihuahua International Airport. There were two black SUV's waiting to take them to their hotel. As they loaded their luggage into the cars, Gibbs turned to the major.

"How about we go and visityour client straight away?" he suggested. Major Moran looked at him, really wanting to have a shower before starting into their case. He could see the intensity on Gibbs' face so chose not to antagonise him and agreed.

"Sure, why not?" he replied, looking over towards his colleague Lt. Wyler. "Lt. Wyler, would you mind checking me in to the hotel. Agent Gibbs and I are going straight to the police station where Mr. Franks is being held."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Eh, Boss?" Tony said, wondering what Gibbs wanted him to do.

"You too, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, leaving Tony in a quandary. He was assigned to keep an eye on Gibbs and to make sure he stayed out of trouble.

"But Boss…." Tony protested.

"I'll have a lawyer with me, DiNozzo. What trouble can I get into in a police station with a lawyer present?" Gibbs offered by way of consolation. Tony knew he had a point. So he turned to the beautiful Lt. Wyler and offered her one of his trademark smiles. She smiled back at him sweetly. She thought he was cute and was glad to have him to accompany her to the hotel. He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed into the car.

"Okay, Boss, I'll see you later then," Tony said, before starting up the car and driving away.

Gibbs and Major Moran prepared to leave also. Gibbs got into the driver seat without any discussion. Moran was used to reading people and had gathered that Gibbs was a man used to getting his own way, so he was content to let him drive. He sat into the passenger seat and closed the door.

"So, do you know where we're going?" he asked the former Marine.

"The police station," Gibbs replied as a matter of fact. Moran smiled. Perhaps he should have been clearer.

"I mean, do you know how to get there?" he asked. Gibbs looked at him blankly but not wanting to admit that he had no idea. Moran saw this and spoke up. "We could use the Sat Nav," he suggested, reaching across and inputting their destination into the Sat Nav set on the dashboard.

Gibbs watched as the younger man programmed the Sat Nav with ease. Gibbs once again felt like a dinosaur. He and technology didn't mix.

"Okay, just follow the directions," the major told him as Gibbs floored the accelerator. Moran quickly buckled up and tried to act cool as Gibbs gave him a demonstration of his notorious driving skills.

They were quickly out on the open road and on their way to Chihuahua city. There was little in the way of conversation, which made Moran feel uncomfortable. He decided to try and break the ice.

"So, you know this Franks guy pretty well then?" Moran asked out of the blue.

"Yep," Gibbs replied curtly.

"Were you in the Marines together?" Moran ventured a guess.

"Nope," Gibbs replied, still watching the road. Moran sighed. Not the most talkative guy, he thought. I might as well try the direct approach then.

"So how do you know him?" he asked.

"He was my boss when I first joined NIS," Gibbs replied again without expression.

"Right. So you're close then?" Moran pressed.

"You could say that. I owe him," Gibbs elaborated slightly. His words gave Moran cause for concern.

"Okay. Can we just be clear on one thing? I'm his lawyer and it's my job to look after him as my client. I don't want your history, whatever it is, getting in the way," Moran told him.

Gibbs turned towards him and unleashed his steely glare. Moran met his glare and established his own. He wasn't intimidated by Gibbs in the least. He had dealt with hard-nosed Marines throughout his military career. To him, Gibbs was just another in a line of tough military men. Gibbs realised that this JAG lawyer had been around the block once or twice and saw in his eyes that he took his responsibility very seriously. He turned his eyes back towards the road. He had a good feeling about this Marine. He was pretty sure he could trust him to do his best for Mike. Pissing contest out of the way, the two stern men settled in silence for the rest of the journey. Soon they were pulling in to the parking lot of police headquarters in central Chihuahua.

They walked confidently into the building and asked to see Mike Franks. They were met by a senior police officer, Comisario Suarez, and taken into his office. There they made their introductions and exchanged political niceties. Gibbs found the whole parade farcical and impatiently waited as Major Moran spoke in fluent Spanish to the arresting officer. Finally, after Moran received the arrest report and a copy of the charges, they were brought to a room at the back of the station. It had dirty white walls and one barred window close to the ceiling. In the centre of the room stood a table and three plastic chairs. They waited for a few minutes and eventually Mike Franks was led in by an officer. The officer left and locked the door behind him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Probie," Franks asked, seemingly unimpressed by Gibbs arrival.

"Nice to see you too, Mike," Gibbs replied. Franks sat on the remaining chair. He looked at the uniform of the officer sitting across from him.

"JAG?" he asked, slightly surprised by Moran's presence.

"Yeah, Mike. This is Major Charles Moran, JAG Corps," Gibbs said by way of introduction.

"I didn't ask for a JAG lawyer," Franks pointed out.

"Vance thought you needed one," Gibbs replied.

"Hell, I don't need a lawyer, Probie. They've no evidence of anything. You know I didn't do it," Franks told them.

"Well, Mr. Franks, they're charging you with the murder of Pedro Hernandez, who was shot and killed almost twenty years ago. They must have some reason to arrest you," Moran explained.

"Look, Major, I wasn't even in this country when that piece of shit was killed. I was investigating his involvement in a triple homicide in the US. This is a trumped up charge and I have a feeling Senor Hernandez's son is behind it," Franks informed him.

"His son? What makes you think that?" Moran enquired.

"You didn't tell him, Probie?" Franks asked, looking quizzically at Gibbs. Gibbs shrugged his shoulders. "What did you talk about all the way down here?" he asked looking back and forth at the two men. It was obvious to him that conversation didn't exactly flow between the two men sitting opposite him.

"I'll give you the edited version. Eight months ago Agent Gibbs was staying with me in Baja. He disappeared and we discovered that he had been kidnapped by Estella and Raul Hernandez. They almost killed him," Mike explained, before starting to cough. It took a few minutes for him to regain his breath. Gibbs was unable to hide his concern.

"Are you okay, Mike?" Gibbs asked his old friend.

"Fine, it's just the dust in here," Franks replied. "Anyway, to cut a long story short, Estella followed Gibbs back to Washington and she was killed by one of his agents while trying to murder him for the second time. Now I suspect that Raul Hernandez had me arrested in order to lure Gibbs back into the country. You watch your back, Probie," Franks warned, as he tried to quell another cough.

"And why wasn't this Raul Hernandez arrested?" Moran wondered aloud.

"I should have mentioned that Raul Hernandez is a commandante in the state police," Franks informed him.

"That shouldn't matter. Police officers aren't above the law, even in Mexico," Moran replied.

"Yeah, well it's complicated," Franks replied, looking at Gibbs. Gibbs was watching his old friend and his concerns for his health were growing. He knew Franks had been unwell for some time. He had been diagnosed with emphysema and angina while admitted to hospital in Ensenada eight months ago. Juanita, his housekeeper and friend, had told Gibbs about it. Mike had never mentioned it himself.

"How soon can you get him out of here?" Gibbs asked Moran.

"The hearing is set for tomorrow. We'll apply for bail and take it from there," Moran explained.

"Okay," Gibbs replied, frustrated that it couldn't be any sooner. "Can I get you anything, Mike?"

"No, Probie, I'm okay. Just do me a favour," Franks asked.

"Anything," Gibbs replied.

"Watch your six," Franks ordered. Gibbs nodded. He and Franks stood up and hugged briefly with mutual back slaps. Moran realised that this signalled that their chat was over and he wondered what, if anything, had been learned.

"Okay, Mr. Franks. I'll meet you in the morning before the hearing and we'll go through your plea. Goodbye," Moran said, shaking Mike's hand.

The two visitors reluctantly left Mike in police custody. As they walked back to their car, Gibbs turned to Moran.

"You have to get him out tomorrow. You can see that he's not well."

"I noticed his breathing all right. What's wrong with him?" Moran asked.

"He has emphysema and heart problems. He doesn't know that I know and wouldn't want any fuss, but he doesn't need this kind of stress," Gibbs explained.

"I'll do my best. It's not going to be a slam dunk though. It will depend on the magistrate," Moran reminded him. Gibbs nodded, knowing whatever happened was out of their hands.

They returned to the hotel. Tony and Lt. Wyler were in the bar waiting for Gibbs and Moran to return. Tony waved over to them as they entered the bar. Beneath the surface he was very relieved that Gibbs was back and everything was as it should be.

"So, Boss, how's Franks doing?" Tony asked, as he waved to get the barman's attention.

"Okay, I guess," Gibbs replied. "Bourbon," he said to the waiting barman."

"Just a coke for me thanks," Moran said as the bar tender waited to take his order. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, sir," Lt. Wyler replied.

"Good, I'm starving," Moran said. "How about we eat and then you and I can go through our case?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "Will you join us?" she asked Tony and Gibbs.

"Why not? We have to eat, right, Boss?" Tony said specifically to Gibbs.

Gibbs nodded. He surreptitiously rubbed his brow. He could feel the beginning of a migraine coming on. He suffered from them occasionally, ever since he was beaten to within an inch of his life by the Hernandez siblings. He asked Tony for the key to their room and excused himself for a few moments under the pretext that he wanted to freshen up. In truth, he knew he was going to need the painkillers he had packed in his bag. He didn't want to concern Tony because ever since he had been injured, his team had watched him closely and he knew they worried about him. He threw the bourbon down his throat and left the trio in the bar.

He took the elevator and found his room. He turned on the light and closed the door behind him. Finding his bag left on one of the twin beds, he opened it and removed the bottle of pills. He took a bottle of water from the mini-bar and swallowed two of the pills. He removed his jacket and entered the bathroom and splashed some cold water onto his face. He went back out to the bedroom area and lay on the bed for a minute. The throbbing behind his eyes was getting worse. He turned off the light and massaged his temples, hoping it would help ease the pain. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He woke with a start when Tony entered the room and turned on the light. He stood over the bed, looking down at Gibbs, unable to mask his concern.

"Boss, are you okay? You've been up here for ages," Tony asked straight out.

"Lights, Tony," Gibbs said, shielding his eyes from the piercing glare.

"Migraine?" Tony asked, as he reached and switched off the main light.

Gibbs nodded. The movement of his head only acted to remind him of the ache.

"You stay here, Boss. I'll bring you up some dinner," Tony offered kindly.

"Not hungry, DiNozzo. You go ahead," Gibbs said, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"I'll be back soon," Tony said, leaving Gibbs to try and get some sleep. He knew that rest usually helped his boss when he had an attack of migraine.

Tony returned back downstairs and explained to the two JAG officers that Gibbs was resting. They ordered their meals and in the course of their conversations, Tony relayed to them the whole story of Gibbs' torture and trauma at the hands of Estella and Raul Hernandez.

"So that's why Franks kept telling Gibbs to watch his back. Do you really think he'll come after him?" Moran asked with a note of trepidation evident in his question.

"My director seems to think so. He is of the opinion that Franks' arrest is purely a ploy to lure Gibbs back to Mexico. What he plans to do is anyone's guess," Tony informed him.

They finished up their food and Tony asked the waiter for a plate to bring up to the room for Gibbs. He kindly arranged it and Tony returned to his room, plate of food in hand. When he entered the lights were out and the only sound was the soft nasal breathing of his boss, fast asleep. Tony tiptoed around the room and put the plate down on the dresser. Suddenly Gibbs sat bolt upright and in one swift movement had his weapon out from under his pillow and aimed at DiNozzo.

"Boss, Boss, it's me," Tony said in a stricken voice, quickly putting his hands in the air.

Gibbs flicked the lamp switch near him and saw the horror stricken face of his senior agent.

"Damn it, DiNozzo! Don't sneak around like that!" he yelled, having frightened himself at how close he came to shooting his protégé.

"Sorry, Boss. I didn't want to wake you," Tony said apologetically. "I brought you up some dinner."

Gibbs swung his legs off the bed and stood up stiffly, stretching his back, watched closely by DiNozzo.

"Are you feeling better?" Tony asked, not really expecting an answer. Gibbs offered a slight nod in reply and walked over and removed the cover from the plate. He picked up a French fry and began to eat. Then he realised just how hungry he was. Tony turned on the TV and removed his shoes and made himself comfortable on his bed. Gibbs took his dinner to his bed and he too sat with his back against the headboard and watched television. They watched a Spanish-dubbed _Die Hard_ movie, with Tony deriving great amusement from watching Bruce Willis cursing in Spanish.

They chilled out for the rest of the night, with Gibbs' thoughts turning to Franks and what would become of him at the hearing tomorrow. He found it difficult to sleep again that night. Eventually he dozed on and off, but meaningful sleep evaded him that night.

_**A/N - would still love to hear what you think so far. Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far and those who have taken the time to read and add alerts also.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N – A lot of literary licence taken here because I've no idea about the Mexican Judicial System obviously. So bear with me……**_

Chapter 4

The next morning Gibbs woke hours before Tony surfaced. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, considering his next move. Once Tony woke, they went downstairs for breakfast together and were joined a short while later by Moran and Wyler. They discussed Mike Franks' case and the JAG team informed them of their intentions to plead not guilty and request that the charges be dropped due to lack of evidence. Having reviewed the arrest report and evidence, Major Moran was confident that Mike Franks would be a free man by that afternoon.

After breakfast, they drove to the police station, two hours before the hearing. Wyler and Moran met with Mike and discussed case tactics. Gibbs and DiNozzo stayed outside, drinking coffee and watching the world go by. They arrived at the courthouse an hour before the case was due to be heard. When the case was eventually called, Gibbs and DiNozzo were sitting in the gallery. Mike was escorted in by police, wearing handcuffs, and placed with his defence team. He looked grey in the face and tired and this worried Gibbs. The presiding judge called the case and asked the defendant, Mike Franks, for his plea. Major Moran, as his lead defence advocate, entered a plea of not guilty and asked that the charges be dropped due to a lack of evidence.

As he did so, the prosecutor stood up and stated that they were in a position to proceed with the case on behalf of the state and to obtain a guilty verdict. The judge, having reviewed the evidence, agreed that there was a case to be had. Major Moran then requested that Mike be released into his custody on bail but this was flatly refused, as Mike was considered a flight risk. The judge remanded Mike Franks to the state penitentiary until a date could be set for his trial. Gibbs couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was sure that his friend would at least be released on bail. Now he was being sent to a prison where he would become a target for long-term violent prisoners. Gibbs was no fool and knew how things worked down here. A gringo in a Mexican jail was going to do some very hard time. Gibbs decided there and then that he would make sure his friend was okay.

As he watched Mike being led away, he stood up and walked out to the sidewalk. He stared up at the dazzling sun and decided to walk back to the hotel alone. He needed to clear his head. Tony emerged from the courthouse alone, the two JAG lawyers remained behind to talk with their client. He searched around for Gibbs and got worried when he realised that he wasn't around and that their car was still parked where they had left it. Immediately he reached for his cell phone and called Gibbs. He felt a surge of relief when Gibbs answered.

"Boss, where are you?"

"I needed some air. I'll see you back at the hotel," Gibbs told him tersely.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Boss?" Tony asked, realising that Gibbs was taking an unnecessary risk.

Gibbs didn't need Tony babysitting him. He didn't reply and hung up, much to Tony's frustration. If anything happened to Gibbs while he was supposed to be looking after him, Vance would kill him, not to mention what the rest of the team would do to him.

He got in his car and decided to follow the route that he hoped Gibbs would have taken. He drove slowly, checking the pedestrians as he went. After about a mile into the journey he spotted the silver hair and familiar gait that he knew so well. It was Gibbs walking with purpose along the sidewalk, Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and his jacket off and slung over his forearm. Tony pulled up some distance back and watched as he walked. He decided not to offer him a ride because Gibbs had made it clear that he wanted to be left alone for a while. So Tony decided to keep watch from afar, just in case. He curb-crawled at a distance and he hoped Gibbs wouldn't notice. He followed him all the way back to the hotel and only felt content when he saw Gibbs walk into the lobby. Tony then parked the car and hurried into the hotel also. Much to his surprise, Gibbs was standing there waiting for him just inside the entrance.

"So, stalking me now, DiNozzo?" he asked, letting his young charge know that he knew he had been following him. All Tony could do was smile a defeated smile, shrug his shoulders and follow his superior back to their room.

Tony tried to talk to Gibbs about the outcome of Franks' hearing but Gibbs was in no mood to talk. He watched as Gibbs took a mini bottle of bourbon from the mini bar and poured it. It didn't take a genius to see that Gibbs was stressed. Tony felt sweaty and decided to take a quick shower to freshen up. The outside temperature was hitting the nineties and sitting in the courtroom with no air conditioning hadn't helped. He was only in the bathroom for fifteen minutes but by the time he emerged, Gibbs was gone.

At first Tony didn't think too much about it. He presumed that he was gone down to the bar or out for more coffee. It was only when he noticed Gibbs weapon and badge on the bed that he realised something was up. Immediately he called Gibbs' cell phone, but it rang out. He called Major Moran and asked if he had seen or heard from Gibbs. He told Tony that he hadn't seen him since the hearing. By now, Tony was becoming frantic. He had a really bad feeling about this.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was sitting in a taxi on the way to the police station, when his cell phone rang. He saw that it was DiNozzo calling and pressed the busy button. He didn't want to talk to Tony now. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He knew what he had to do. As the car pulled up outside the police station, Gibbs leaned over and paid the driver and tipped generously. He stood outside the building for a moment, looked around and appreciated what a beautiful afternoon it was. Then he calmly walked into the building. He asked to speak to Comisario Suarez. Once again he was escorted to the Comisario's office. He was greeted amicably by Suarez and invited to take a seat. Gibbs bore a stony face as he sat.

"So, Senor Gibbs, what can I do for you today?" he asked in heavily accented but fluent English.

"Release Mike Franks," Gibbs said bluntly.

"Well, you know I can't do that," Suarez replied.

"You can if he didn't do it," Gibbs responded.

"But we have evidence to prove that he did," Suarez told him.

"But I know he didn't do it," Gibbs told him.

"You do," Suarez said, looking at him suspiciously. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I did it," Gibbs admitted outright, his expression testament to how serious he was. His admission stunned Comisario Suarez. He looked at him in disbelief.

"You did?" Suarez repeated, sitting up straight and leaning forward on to his desk. "Prove it. How was Hernandez killed?"

"I lay in wait on top of a hill in full camouflage. He came out from the church, got in his truck and drove north along the road. I took aim and fired one round through the driver's window, hitting him in the head," Gibbs explained with indifference. "He killed my wife and daughter. He had to pay for what he did."

"You know, Senor Gibbs, I actually believe you are telling the truth," Suarez replied. "You know, because of your admission I must place you under arrest?"

Gibbs nodded silently.

"How soon can you arrange for Mike Franks to be freed?" Gibbs asked anxiously.

"It could take a couple of hours," Suarez told him. "I will need you to make an official statement later. For now I will get an officer to take you to a holding cell."

Gibbs didn't object. He held out his wrists, expecting to be placed in cuffs.

"I don't think that will be necessary, do you?" Suarez told him. He realised that he respected this man, even though he hardly knew him and he had just admitted to murder. He was a man of principles, much like himself. He felt a slight pang of sadness that this American agent's distinguished career would end on such a bitter note. He extended his hand to shake Gibbs' hand. Gibbs looked him in the eye, saw compassion, and took his hand. He felt that even though he had just admitted to killing a man out of blind revenge, Suarez understood his reasons.

Gibbs walked with one of Suarez's junior officers to the holding cell in the basement of the building. He emptied his pockets of change, his cell phone and wallet. He walked into the cell and felt a shiver down his spine at the clink of metal as the bars closed behind him. He sat on the cot bed that ran along one wall. With his head in hands, he took stock of what he had just done. He prayed that it was worth it and that his old friend would be a free man before nightfall.

As all this was happening, Tony was beside himself. Gibbs' cell was no longer active. He had no idea where he was or if he was all right. He drove around the streets, hoping to see him. Maybe he just needed more air, he hoped. But as that endeavour proved fruitless, Tony began to realise that he would have to call Vance and tell him what was going on. He decided to call from the hotel room. At least when he was getting his ass chewed by the director, it would be in private. He quickly returned to the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he made the call.

"Vance," the director answered.

"Director Vance, it's Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," Tony said nervously.

"Yes, DiNozzo. How are things in sunny Mexico?" Vance asked, sounding in a relatively good mood. That was all about to change.

"Could be better actually. I seem to have managed to lose Gibbs," Tony said, embarrassed,

"You've what?" Vance asked, his voice rising noticeably.

"Lost Gibbs," Tony repeated timidly.

"Tell me you're kidding," Vance insisted.

"I'm sorry. I just went to take a shower and when I came out he was gone. He left his gun and badge on the bed. I've looked everywhere I can think of. There's no sign of him," Tony explained.

"He left his gun and his badge?" Vance asked.

"Yes, sir," Tony replied.

"God damn it! Did it occur to you to try the police station, DiNozzo?" Vance asked, having already heard about Franks hearing. Tony paused to consider the reason for trying the police station. Then it dawned on him.

"He wouldn't," he said, in disbelief. "Why would he be so…..? Franks," Tony uttered, eventually realising Gibbs' loyalties and actions.

"Deal with it, DiNozzo. Use the JAG lawyers if you have to. Find him and stop him," Vance ordered.

Tony hung up the phone and looked at his watch. It had been two hours since he had last seen Gibbs. He called the police station and asked if a Leroy Jethro Gibbs had been arrested. He was put on hold. He waited patiently listening to traditional Mexican tunes until finally someone picked up the phone.

"No, senor. There is no Leroy Jethro Gibbs here," was the reply.

"Are you sure? He's American, 6 feet, grey hair, sports jacket," Tony explained, describing his boss.

"No, senor. Lo siento."

Now Tony was really worried. They were saying Gibbs wasn't there but his gut was telling him otherwise. He had to go and check for himself. He got in touch with Major Moran and asked the two lawyers to accompany him. They agreed. Tony couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was gnawing away at him. He was starting to develop the startling gut instinct that his boss relied on so frequently. Right now his gut was telling him that something untoward was happening. He didn't like it.

_**A/N - Hope you're enjoying this. Will try and get Chapet 5 up ASAP!!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N -Thanks again guys for your reviews. Glad you like this so far. Again a reminder that the Mexican Legal system is not my forte so please excuse.**_

_Chapter 5_

Gibbs had spent over two hours in his cell, without any contact from anyone. He had expected that by now someone would have come and taken him to make his official statement. He sat with his back against the cold stone wall, resting his head back and eyes closed. After a while he heard voices approaching along the corridor. This new activity roused him and he moved to the edge of the bed, put his feet on the ground and prepared himself.

Three uniformed police officers appeared outside his cell. One officer carrying the keys opened the lock to allow the other two to enter. Gibbs rose to his feet in anticipation, sensing tension in the air. One of the men approached Gibbs and without any cause grasped his wrist and twisted his arm roughly behind his back, slamming him face first up against the bars of the cell in the process. He clamped a pair of handcuffs on Gibbs' wrists and then leaned menacingly over Gibbs' shoulder, pressing his face into the bars.

"Raul Hernandez says 'Ola'," he growled, before kidney punching Gibbs. Gibbs groaned and tried to breathe through the pain. As he strived to recover, they roughly dragged him out of the cell and frog-marched him up the stairs and through the administration area. Alarm bells started going off in Gibbs' mind as he was escorted to the door and out into daylight without hesitation. No transfer documents were signed and there was no sign of Suarez. His gut told him that something improper was going on.

The officers took him out the back door and shoved him into the back seat of a small unmarked car, laughing as they did so. One of the officers sat in beside him while the other sat into the driver's seat.

"Where are you taking me?" Gibbs asked, not intimidated by either of them. The two officers sneered.

"You're being transferred," one replied, an unmistakable air of sarcasm evident. Gibbs picked up on this and soon realised that he was probably going to meet his fate on this trip.

They drove through the city at speed and headed for the highway. Before he knew it, they were leaving the city of Chihuahua and, judging from the road signs, were heading west into the countryside.

--------------

By this time, DiNozzo, Major Moran and Lt. Wyler were arriving at the police station. Moran asked to speak to Comisario Suarez. He was told that he wasn't available and wouldn't be available for the rest of the day. Then Moran asked to see whoever was in charge. They were left waiting for almost thirty minutes before an officer approached them. They explained to him who they were and that they had previously been dealing with Comisario Suarez. Tony told him that one of their group was missing and they wanted to check if he had been to see Suarez. The officer told him that he hadn't seen any American and that Suarez hadn't been in the office at all that day. He lied. With that, Tony stood up and shook his head in annoyance and left the two JAG lawyers still talking to the officer while he went outside.

"Damn it, Boss, where are you?" he said aloud, as his anxiety grew.

As he paced outside, he saw Moran hurrying out of the station towards him with his cell phone in his outstretched hand.

"Gibbs?" Tony asked, in expectation.

"No, Mike Franks. He wants me to come pick him up. He's just been released," Moran informed him with a shrug of his shoulders. Lt. Wyler followed him down the steps of the building.

"Released? What's going on?" Tony asked, his face strained with confusion.

"I don't know but maybe Mike will be able to shine some light on it?" Moran said, taking the car keys and opening the car. They all climbed back inside. Tony was particularly quiet on the five-mile drive to the penitentiary. When they got there, Mike Franks was standing outside the gates in his shirtsleeves, looking pale and drawn. He gave a slight wave as they pulled up.

"Hey, Mike," Tony said, getting out of the car.

"DiNozzio," Franks said, deliberately getting the young agent's name wrong again. Tony was about to correct him but thought better of it. "Where's Probie?" Franks asked, referring to Gibbs.

"That's the question of the hour," Tony replied. "We were hoping you might be able to help us with that."

"Me? How would ……? Hold on, I'm confused. One minute I'm banged up and the next they're telling me to get the hell out. What just happened?" Franks asked him.

"I've no idea. Did they say why they released you?" Moran enquired.

"Not a darn thing. Although I thought I heard one of the guards saying that someone just admitted to killing Hernandez. I was hoping I'd misheard him," Franks said, looking troubled.

"Gibbs? Ah hell, tell me he didn't," Tony said, kicking the dirt in frustration.

"If I get my hands on him, I'll slap him so hard….." Franks said, finally realising the reason he was a free man. Gibbs had turned himself in. I taught him better than that, he thought!

"Well, if he turned himself in, where is he?" Tony asked, causing everyone to stop and look at him. "I mean, he had to turn himself in somewhere. There would be an arrest record, paperwork, something. I'm telling you, something's not right."

"Agent DiNozzo, I think it's time you got back in touch with that young Agent McGee and see what he can find out, under the radar, if you know what I mean," Franks suggested. Tony knew exactly what he meant. However, it also meant making a call to NCIS and telling his colleagues that he had managed to lose Gibbs. Having seen how much they worried and cared about him, especially since he had been injured, he knew they were not going to take the news well.

They all got in the car and decided to return to the hotel. On the drive back, Tony braced himself and made the call to McGee.

"Hey, McGoo. You missing me?" he said to lighten the mood, however temporarily.

"Like a hole in the head, Tony. So how's the tan coming?" McGee asked cynically.

"Not getting much time to relax here, Probie. In fact, I need you to do something for me," he asked almost nicely, much to McGee's unease.

"Okay. What do you need?" he replied suspiciously.

"I need you to check police arrest records …..in Chihuahua, today," Tony said seriously.

"Chihuahua? Are you kidding me, Tony? Have you any idea....... ?" McGee asked, thinking Tony was pulling his leg.

"I'm deadly serious, McGee. We think Gibbs has admitted to murder and turned himself in to the police here, but they deny he's in their custody. He's been missing for a couple of hours now. I'm getting worried," Tony admitted.

"Jeez, Tony, does Vance know?" McGee asked, knowing the trouble this could mean.

"He knows that he's missing. He doesn't know about the arrest," Tony replied honestly. He could hear McGee typing furiously at his keyboard. Then another thing crossed his mind. "He may still have his cell phone on him. See if you or Abby can get a location on it. Call me back when you get something," Tony asked before ending the call.

--------------

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably in the back of the car. His shoulders and arms were aching, still cuffed behind his back.

"Any chance of opening these?" Gibbs ventured the question. The officer beside him turned and looked him in the eye.

"No," was his curt reply. Gibbs tried in vain to make himself a little more comfortable. He watched as they drove off the main highway and down a minor road into the parched countryside. He couldn't help but think what a beautiful place it was as they passed picturesque hills and giant cacti. He wondered where they were taking him and suspected that it was to a shallow grave somewhere in the desert. He surprised himself by how resigned to his fate he had become. There was no point attempting escape, at least not yet.

Having driven along the dusty road for over an hour, they arrived at a tiny village. The wooden signpost told Gibbs it was called Conchos. A couple of pickup trucks were parked along the street. Gibbs saw a cantina and a general store. There were a couple of other buildings, including a small church. The car ground to a halt outside an innocuous whitewashed stone building. Gibbs spotted the barred windows but noticed that there was no sign or indication that the building was a police station. The officer beside him got out of the car and walked around and dragged Gibbs unceremoniously out of the car. With his partner's assistance, they pushed Gibbs through the door into the building. As he stumbled through the door, his first impression was that the place reminded him of an old jailhouse, straight out of a western movie. Either side of the room was an old desk and a chair. He moved to the centre of the room and waited. There was no one else in the building from what he could see. He was led to a back room where the jail cells were situated. One of the officers released his hands from the cuffs before shoving him in the cell and slamming the door behind him. Gibbs surveyed his prison. It was about 8 feet by 8 feet with a rusty bucket in one corner and a bunk on one wall. A tiny barred window overhead offered ventilation and light. He sat on the bunk and was greeted by a damp, musty odor. He watched as a couple of cockroaches scuttled across the floor behind the bucket. Sitting there, he tried to figure out how this was going to end. He could only imagine one outcome. He fully expected to be receiving a visit from Raul Hernandez sooner rather than later. He suspected that Hernandez was going to prolong his demise, judging from the pleasure he had derived from the torture all those months ago. Gibbs had decided that he wouldn't give Raul the satisfaction of watching him fight or beg for his life. He hoped he would succumb to whatever he had planned for him quickly.

His thoughts turned to his team, especially to Abby and Ducky and to how his death would be handled by those he would be leaving behind. He hated to think of them suffering, especially Abby. More than anything, he wanted to spare them from the trauma he had suffered when his family was murdered. But he knew this wasn't going to end well. At least they'll have each other, he thought.

_**A/N - Gibbs slightly O/C here? What do you think?**_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tony nervously bounced his right leg as he sat with the others in the hotel bar. Franks, Moran and Wyler were there, talking about Franks' release and speculating about Gibbs. Tony seemed miles away when his cell phone rang, causing him to jump with fright.

"Yeah, DiNozzo," he answered quickly.

"Tony, how could you? You promised to keep him safe. That's the whole reason you're there. I can't believe you let this happen," Abby ranted angrily, taking Tony by surprise. What she said hurt him even more because he knew it was true. His sole assignment was to keep Gibbs out of trouble. Assignment failed! Vance could have his job for this but right now he didn't care, all he could think about was Gibbs. He had to take control of the situation and be assertive. He was a good agent. Gibbs had taught him well. He knew how to handle problems and how to think on his feet. It was time to get to work, he thought, hoping to snap himself out of his depression.

"Abs, I messed up, okay? I can fix it, but I need you to pull yourself together and help me," Tony said sternly and with authority, raising the eyebrows of the people sitting around him.

"You can?" Abby asked meekly, surprised by Tony's tone.

"I'll find him, Abs, if it kills me," Tony promised. "McGee is trying to hack into the police records. I need you to see if you can find Gibbs' phone signal. Hopefully he still has it on him. I've been trying it and it's just going straight to voice mail. Tell McGee to try and get a location for Raul Hernandez. My gut tells me he's behind this," Tony surmised.

"Okay, Tony! I'm on it," Abby declared, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

"And Abs?"

"Yeah."

"Get in touch with your DOD buddy. We might need access to satellite footage if all else fails," Tony told her.

"No problem," Abby replied. "Tony," she said pleadingly before terminating the call. "Find him!"

As Tony lowered the phone from his ear he realised that the Franks and the JAG lawyers were staring at him, Franks in particular.

"I _will _find him," Tony said, with determination.

"_We'll_ find him," Franks said, making sure DiNozzo knew he wasn't doing this alone. Waiting was the hardest thing for them all. They needed a lead. They hoped Abby or McGee would provide one.

-------------

Darkness was falling in the tiny village where Gibbs was being held. He looked out through the small prison window and surveyed the stars from where he sat. It was a clear night and the temperature was dropping. He was beginning to feel the chill. As he stargazed, the door opened and one of the officers entered carrying a tortilla and a bottle of water. He handed them to Gibbs through the bars without a word. Gibbs watched as he left and closed the door behind him. He wished he knew what was going on. The tortilla smelled good but he wasn't really hungry, even though it had been ages since he'd eaten. He looked at the bottle of water. He really needed a drink. He twisted the cap off the bottle and swallowed greedily.

When he finished, he pulled the musty blanket off the bed, shook the dust from it and threw it around his shoulders to keep warm. He was exhausted. It had been a long day. He only hoped that Mike had been released as Suarez had assured. He curled up on the bunk and eventually fell into a restless sleep.

He had no idea how much later it was when he was woken by the sound of his cell door clanking open. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then a beam of light shone from the flashlight of the person entering. He couldn't make out the face behind the glare of the light shining in his face.

"Agent Gibbs! So good to see you again," the voice said coldly. Gibbs recognised the voice immediately. It was the voice that had haunted his dreams for the last few months. It was the voice of Raul Hernandez.

Hernandez turned the light on the plate and half empty bottle of water.

"Not hungry, Agent Gibbs? I'm insulted. I prepared it especially for you, you know," he said with an evil grin. Gibbs looked at him without comment or reaction. "An old family recipe. Well at least you took a drink."

Raul stood toe to toe with Gibbs. They were about the same height although Hernandez was a heavier build and that bit younger than Gibbs. Gibbs glared at him intensely. He resisted the urge to punch him. There was no point. He knew the other two officers were just outside the cell. He could see their silhouettes against the outside wall.

"I see you still have that fire in your eyes," Raul said, with a hint of admiration. "Let's see if it's still there in the morning," he laughed almost uncontrollably. He turned and shut the cell, still laughing. Gibbs was relieved that he hadn't eaten the food. By Raul's inference, there was something wrong with the food. He wondered if he'd done anything to the water. So far he felt fine. Maybe Raul was just messing with his head. He would find out soon enough.

-------------------

Tony and Franks still waited at the hotel bar, praying for McGee to call. Moran and Wyler had left and were preparing to fly back to Washington the following morning. It was getting late and Franks looked as tired as Tony felt.

"Here, Mike," Tony said, putting his room key on the table. "Room 352. You get some rest. I'll come get you if I hear anything," Tony offered kindly.

"I don't think I'd be able to sleep knowing Probie is in trouble," Franks admitted openly. Tony knew the two men were close. He surmised that the bond between them had to be similar to the bond he felt between himself and Gibbs. He fully understood Franks' reluctance to rest. To him it would be like abandoning his friend in his hour of need. Tony was about to get up and order yet another coffee when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it and answered right away.

"McGee?" he asked urgently.

"Yeah, Tony. I think we got something. I found no record of an arrest in the police database. So Abby had the idea to hack the security cameras in the area. I managed to break through the firewall of the police security surveillance system. We checked video from the time Gibbs left the hotel and we found him. He entered the police station at 3.15pm. So we can place him there. Someone has to have seen him," Tim stated.

"I know, McGee. I have a feeling we're not getting the full picture," Tony replied.

"Yeah. Abby is still going through the footage to see if we can see him leaving the building," McGee told him. "Hold on, she's on the other line," Tim said, putting Tony on hold. There was silence for a couple of minutes before McGee returned to Tony.

"Okay. Abs has him leaving through a rear exit at 5.40pm. He was handcuffed and put into an unmarked car by two uniformed police officers," McGee informed him.

"What the hell is going on?" Tony fumed. "They can't do this….can they?"

"No, Tony. He has rights and any case would be thrown out of court if they're not adhered to," McGee explained.

"So, maybe they're not intending on Gibbs getting his day in court. Hernandez has to be behind this," Tony quickly surmised. "Thanks, McGee. Send me what you have. Can you get me a home address for Comisario Juan Suarez? He mysteriously disappeared from work today and I have a feeling he knows what's going on," Tony ruminated.

"Juan Suarez. Hold on a minute," he said, again inputting his search in the personnel files of the police department. Seconds later he had a result. "Okay, Tony. Sending it to you now."

"Thanks Probie," DiNozzo said gratefully.

"Tony, be careful," McGee warned as the call ended.

Tony hung up and then turned to Franks.

"We have a lead," he smiled, hopeful it would lead to his boss eventually.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Franks asked, standing up and reaching for his jacket.

On the way, Tony explained to Franks everything McGee had told him. He input Suarez's address into the Sat Nav. It wasn't very far and they arrived there quickly. They agreed to take an easy approach initially and if Suarez was uncooperative, they'd press a little harder. They pulled up outside Suarez's house and looked around. It was a nice middle class, suburban street. The lights were still on in the house. Despite the hour, it appeared that the residents were still up. Franks and DiNozzo walked up and knocked on the door. A woman answered.

"Senora Suarez?" Mike asked in Spanish. "Is your husband home?"

She studied the two men at her front door before answering.

"Yes, just one minute," she said, closing the door on them. A minute later, Juan Suarez opened the door. He recognised his visitors immediately and invited them in, to Tony's surprise.

"Do you know why we're here?" Tony asked.

"Agent Gibbs, I presume," Suarez replied.

"We know he came to see you this afternoon. Now, your colleagues inform us that they have no record of him ever being there. Can you explain that?" DiNozzo asked, as the veil hiding his anger slipped.

"Senor Gibbs came to see me. He admitted that he killed Pedro Hernandez and he told me why. I have to say, I felt his pain. Anyway, his main concern was how long it would take for you to be released," he said, turning to Mike. "I had no choice but to place him in one of our holding cells until I could arrange for a formal interview and statement," Suarez explained. So far, what he was saying sounded plausible, Tony considered.

"So, why do my colleagues have footage of him being shoved into a car two hours later?" Tony asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that. I got a call from headquarters shortly after I spoke to Senor Gibbs to say that he was to be transported to Tijuana. I found it strange because I still hadn't logged the arrest into our database by then and it would be a highly unusual action," Suarez admitted. "And only the officers at my station knew he was being held."

"So, why didn't you stop it?" Franks asked gruffly.

"I would have, but I was relieved of my duties this afternoon, without warning, pending an investigation," he told him. "Some trumped-up charge of misconduct. It seems the timing was convenient, don't you think?" Suarez asked.

"Absolutely," Franks replied. "They wanted you out of the way."

"So, do you know where they took him?" Tony asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't know," Suarez replied.

"But you must know something. I mean they were police officers that put him into the unmarked car," Tony told him.

"Look, I can make a call. I have some good officers who notice what's going on when I'm not there," Suarez said, standing up and going to his house phone. He dialled a number and had a brief conversation with someone. He returned and sat with the two men.

"He didn't get their names, but he said he heard them mention Commandante Raul Hernandez," Suarez informed them. "As they were getting into the car he overheard them talking about how long it would take to get to Conchos, a little town a few hours drive from here," he told them.

"Do you know anything about his town?" Tony asked.

"Not really. It's very remote, only about 150 residents. "I can't see why he'd be taken there," Suarez said perplexed.

"I can," Franks announced. "They're going to make sure he disappears for good."

Tony hated that he said it but knew he was right. He stood up and thanked Suarez for being so candid. They couldn't waste time, they had to get to Conchos sooner rather than later. Back at the car, Tony called McGee to update him. Then he called the JAG lawyers and explained what was happening. He told them that he was on his way to Conchos and that he was going to get Gibbs legally or otherwise. They told him that technically Gibbs was not in official police custody and was being held against his will. Therefore there was no legal avenue they could take. Knowing the type of people they were dealing with, Moran unofficially told him to do whatever he had to do to get Gibbs back.

For Tony, that wouldn't be a problem. He blamed himself for not stopping Gibbs in the first place. If anything happened to him, he would never forgive himself. He and Mike drove out of the city at speed, praying that they weren't too late.

_**A/N - So, will they find Gibbs? Will it be too late? What do you think so far...let me know.**_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Gibbs woke in his cell feeling decidedly unwell. He looked at his watch. It was after 2am. He lay on the pungent bunk and gripped his stomach tightly as cramps struck him, spasm after spasm. He could feel his perspiration dampening his shirt as another wave of nausea washed over him.

_Damn it! Guess Raul wasn't bluffing after all._

He got up quickly and ran to the bucket in the corner and retched. Having purged the meagre contents of his stomach, he crawled slowly back to the bunk. He looked at the bottle of water on the floor and desperately wanted to take a drink to wash away the metallic taste in his mouth but decided against it. He was convinced that he had ingested some form of poison and knew it had to be in the water. Drinking more would only make it worse. He groaned as another spasm tore through him. He curled up on the bunk and brought his knees to his stomach to try and alleviate his discomfort. He closed his eyes but knew that he wouldn't be sleeping through this.

----------------

Tony and Franks sped down the highway and followed the Sat Nav instructions to exit for Conchos and take the minor road into the hills. The moonlight provided a natural illumination for their journey. Tony gave Mike his spare weapon, just in case they needed it. Soon they reached the tiny village. There wasn't a soul on the street at that hour and little signs of life anywhere. There weren't that many buildings, but still Tony had no idea where to start looking for Gibbs.

"DiNozzo, what kind of car did McGee say they put Gibbs in?" Franks asked, as they slowly rolled down the street.

"A blue old style Ford sedan," Tony replied.

"Like that one?" Franks said pointing to the car parked outside a tiny white-washed cottage.

"Like that one!" Tony replied enthusiastically, anticipating an end to their search.

They continued down the street and pulled the car around the side of the terraced buildings. Quietly they got out and stole silently along the side and around to the front of the buildings facing the street. They peeped in the front window of the white cottage. Tony could see two guys asleep in chairs, their feet resting on the desks in front of them. There was no sign of Gibbs. He signalled for Franks to follow him around the back. They crept around back and Tony noticed the small barred window close to the roof tiles. He pulled over an old oil drum that was lying outside and used it to stand on. He peeked through the window. It was difficult to see anything in the darkness, but then he noticed a slight movement followed by a soft moan.

"Boss?" he whispered as loudly a he could risk. There was no reply.

"Boss?" he tried again, a little louder this time.

Gibbs thought he was imaging things. He was sure he could hear DiNozzo calling him. He turned towards the sound never the less. He looked up towards the window and couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the silhouette through the bars.

"Hey, Boss," Tony said casually, as if finding Gibbs in a Mexican jail was an every day occurrence.

"DiNozzo? How did you find me?" Gibbs asked, trying to stand straight.

"Long story. Are you okay?" Tony enquired, hearing something unusual in Gibbs' voice.

"Fine," Gibbs lied, not wanting to worry Tony unnecessarily.

"How many out there, Boss?" Tony asked quietly, wanting to know for sure what he was up against.

"Two and Raul if he's still out there," Gibbs informed him.

"Okay. You hang in there. We're going to get you out," Tony promised, hoping he was right.

Gibbs was curious as to whom the 'we' referred, but Tony had quickly disappeared before he could ask. He doubled over again as another cramp took hold. He took deep breaths and tried to breathe through the pain. He sat uncomfortably on the bunk and waited. He had to be prepared for anything.

Outside, Tony informed Franks what Gibbs had told him. As there was only one way in or out, they had no choice but to come in the front door. They both checked their weapons.

"Try not to kill anyone," Tony said to Franks. "They're still Mexican police at the end of the day, even if what they are doing to Gibbs is illegal. Vance won't be happy if we cause an international incident."

"I'll do my best," Franks replied.

The two men returned to the front of the little house. Covertly, Tony tried the door handle. Much to his surprise, the door opened. His eyes never strayed from the two sleeping policemen as he put his foot inside the door. He scanned the room, looking for any sign of Raul. As far as he could see, there was no one else inside. He entered the room as quietly as he could, closely followed by Mike Franks. As Tony sneaked towards one of the sleeping men, Franks tiptoed towards the other. Without warning, one of the men woke and saw the two shadows in the room. He moved quickly towards his side arm. Tony reacted just as quickly and jumped the man before he had time to draw his weapon. The ensuing struggle woke his compatriot, but Mike Franks took care of him pretty swiftly with a telling blow to the base of his skull with the butt of his gun.

DiNozzo continued to tumble around the floor, trying to get the better of the other police officer. Tony did have a significant height advantage over the other man, and it wasn't long before it showed. Tony found himself pounding on the weakening officer and realised quickly that the man was beaten. He hauled him to his feet and sat him back on the chair from which he had fallen. Using the officer's own cuffs, he handcuffed him to the chair. Franks, meanwhile, had gone to find Gibbs. He walked through the only other door at the back of the room. There he found Gibbs' standing anxiously at the bars of his cell, having heard the commotion in the other room.

"Mike?" he said, surprised to see his old friend.

"Hey, Probie. We're busting you out," Franks joked. He tried to open the cell in which Gibbs was being held, but it was padlocked. "Gotta find the key first," he told Gibbs before disappearing back through the door. He was only gone for less than a minute when he reappeared.

"You look like shit, Probie," Franks said, as he observed the perspiration and drawn look on Gibbs' face. Gibbs didn't comment.

"Let's get outta here," he said, putting his best foot forward and striding out of the jail. He examined the scene in the adjoining room as he entered it. One of his captors lay unconscious on the floor while the other was a bloody mess, secured to a wooden chair across the room.

"No Raul?" Gibbs asked, glancing around the room again.

"No, Boss, just these guys. We'd better get out of here before he gets back, I guess," Tony advised, before taking the conscious officer's tie and using it to gag him.

Franks checked up and down the street before giving the all clear for Gibbs and DiNozzo to follow. They hustled up the street and around the side to where Tony had left the car. They all climbed into the car quickly and Tony started it and turned back onto the street. He realised that they would have to drive past the jail again to get back to the main road. He had no choice. He sped down the street, and as he reached the jail he saw one of the officers stumble out of the building into the street. Tony realised that he had a weapon, a long barrel rifle. He put the accelerator to the floor and the car responded. He raced past the officer as he raised the rifle, took aim and fired. The first shot missed the vehicle entirely. The second shattered the rear window and caused shards of glass to rain down on Gibbs, who had crouched down in the back seat to avoid being hit. Tony continued and was glad to reach the turn in the road that would take him out of the officer's line of fire.

Gibbs sat back up and looked out of the shattered window. They were clear, for now. He sat back and rested his head against the seat. He had only relaxed when another merciless spasm gripped him. Without realising it, he groaned loudly enough to make Franks and Tony turn around. He was clutching his abdomen.

"Jeez, Boss, are you hit?" Tony asked in a panicked tone.

"I'm all right," Gibbs replied, through gritted teeth. "Just keep driving."

Tony knew they needed to keep moving, but he was worried for Gibbs. He wanted to say something. Instead Franks spoke up.

"Hell, Probie, you don't look all right," Franks informed him. "Are you sick?"

Gibbs knew he couldn't hide the fact that he was ailing from them. He didn't want to alarm them, so he decided to sugar coat the truth a little.

"Just something I ate," he said, which was technically not a lie.

"Food poisoning! Oh man!" Tony said. "Whatever you do, please don't throw up in the car."

Franks glared at him and Gibbs would have too, had he been able to raise his head. He was feeling really rough, worse than he was letting on, but the last thing he wanted was for them to take him to a Mexican hospital. He wanted to go home. Then a realisation hit him. How would they get back into the States? As far as he knew he was a fugitive in this country. If they tried to cross the border, they would be stopped and arrested. They needed to come up with an alternative way out of Mexico, and fast!

Tony continued to drive as fast as the tiny country road would allow. As they finally approached the highway, Tony turned to Franks.

"Where to from here?" he asked, knowing Franks knew the country well.

"Well, first things first; we've got to get rid of this car. Shot-out windows will draw attention to us. Take a left onto the highway. It will take us into a little town where we should be able to find another ride," Franks advised. "They'll be expecting us to head for the border and they'll be waiting for us. We need to find another way out of Mexico."

Gibbs listened to his friend's plan as his gut twisted within. He knew he couldn't hold it any longer and ordered Tony to pull over. Tony braked suddenly and the car skidded to a halt. Gibbs opened the door just in time to throw up. Tony and Franks exchanged worried glances as Gibbs wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Franks found a half empty bottle of water, which he threw back to Gibbs.

"Are you gonna make it, Probie?" Franks asked, not meaning it literally.

Gibbs rinsed his mouth and spit out the water. He looked to his good friend, his eyes conveying the trouble he was in. Franks knew that look. It was one he'd seen only once or twice before. Gibbs was worried. Neither man said anything, yet their exchange spoke volumes. Gibbs didn't want Tony to know and Franks understood that. He said nothing. Gibbs climbed back into the car and tried to avoid the worried glare emanating from DiNozzo.

"Drive, DiNozzo," he ordered gruffly. Tony did as he was told and they got underway once again.

They continued on their way until they reached a gas station and rest stop. Franks thought it would be a good place to find an alternative ride. There were several cars parked around. Beside the gas station was a diner. Tony decided to get some food while Franks scoured the parking lot to check out their transport options. Gibbs stood with his back leaning on the car, appreciating the chill in the early morning air. Franks wandered around the parking lot and found a pickup truck unlocked and with keys still in the ignition. A gift, thought Franks. He waited for DiNozzo to come out with the food and drinks. He signalled for him to come over. Gibbs was already on his way. The three of them got into the cab of the pickup. Tony once again chose to drive. Franks sat in the middle and Gibbs on the outside, just in case he needed to make a hasty exit. The noisy engine burst into life and they quickly pulled onto the road and continued north.

"DiNozzo, do you still have that phone?" Franks asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, why?" DiNozzo asked.

"Why do you think?" Franks responded, sounding a little tetchy. Gibbs leaned across so that his pained glare could reach Tony. The phone was quickly handed over.

Franks first called directory enquiries, looking for the number of a guy called Alvarez in La Pesca. Tony was curious as to why he would be looking for the guy now. He listened as Franks spoke in Spanish to Alvarez. When he got off the phone, he told Tony to take the next exit off the highway. They were changing direction and were heading east.

"Can I ask why?" Tony enquired.

"I've just scored us a way out here," Franks said with satisfaction.

"Okay then," Tony replied. He continued driving but couldn't help but worry about Gibbs. Despite his best efforts to hide it, Tony could see he wasn't doing so well. He could hear his concentrated and deliberate breathing as he tried to quell his nausea. He was glad to see him sipping from the bottle of water he had given him, but wondered how long he could keep it down for. He decided that if he wasn't showing any signs of improvement in the next hour or two he was going to call Ducky. Until then, he concentrated on the road ahead.

**_A/N - thanks again to everyone who's reviewed. I appreciate your comments. _**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Commandante Raul Hernandez stormed around the jailhouse. He was seething. Gibbs was gone. His two officers stood bruised and battered to one side of the front room, their heads hanging low, having taking a battering of verbal abuse from their boss. Hernandez had been with his mistress a few hundred meters away when he heard the gunshots. By the time he had pulled on some pants and run to the old jailhouse, it was all over. The car was gone, Gibbs was gone. He found one of his officers inside the jailhouse uncuffing his bloodied colleague. Raul was livid. He ranted and raved and thumped the desk and threw one of the chairs right across the room. Eventually he calmed down enough to hear his officer's version of what had happened. He found some consolation in knowing that Gibbs had drunk from the bottle of water he had provided for him. He must be feeling the effects of the arsenic by now. The symptoms of arsenic poisoning can manifest within hours of ingestion. A wicked smile crossed his face as he pictured the American agent suffering agonisingly. However, he suspected that the dose Gibbs had ingested might not be enough to kill him.

He needed to witness his demise. He needed to be sure, otherwise all this was for nothing. He needed to find the Americans. He ordered one of the officers to put out an APB for their apprehension. They were to be located but not approached until he got there. He suspected that they would try and get across the border, so he also arranged for the border police to be on the lookout for the American agents. He had only planned to kill Gibbs but had no qualms about eliminating the other two if it became necessary. Revenge was now driving him. Right and wrong had long since been obscured.

---------------

Back on the road, Tony and Franks were navigating their way to the coastal town of La Pesca in the east of Mexico. Gibbs had fallen asleep, his head leaning on the passenger side window. Tony and Franks conversed in whispered tones.

"He seems pretty sick, Mike. Do you think he'll be okay?" Tony asked softly.

Mike looked at Gibbs' sleeping form sitting beside him. Every so often he could feel Gibbs' body shiver against him. There was a conspicuous film of sweat on his brow. There was no doubt Gibbs wasn't getting any better. He too was getting worried about his friend.

"I don't know, DiNozzo," Franks replied as softly as he could. "Whatever's wrong with him, I'm pretty sure it's not food poisoning," he surmised.

"We need to get him to a doctor," Tony said seriously.

"Do you really think he's going to go?" Franks replied.

Tony rubbed his brow, knowing that Franks was right. He looked over at Gibbs, who was in a deep sleep. The raspy breaths that he released every now and again didn't go unnoticed. Tony turned his eyes back to the road and he drove towards the rising sun. It had been one long night. They had been on the road for over an hour when Franks offered to drive for some of the way. Tony was glad to accept and pulled over and they switched places. It was then that Tony decided would be a good time to call the office. The phone rang and it was answered almost immediately.

"Tony?" McGee asked anxiously.

"You were expecting someone else?" Tony retorted.

"Where the hell have you been? We're been trying to contact you for ages," McGee informed him.

"I've been busy breaking Gibbs out of jail," Tony told him. "Had to turn off my cell for a while."

"You found Gibbs?" McGee asked, with a sense of anticipation.

"Yeah, he's with us. Hernandez had him banged up in some small town jailhouse. Franks has a line on a way out of Mexico for us. You see, we're kind of on the run," Tony informed him.

"On the run?"

"Yeah, we can't risk trying to cross the border. Hernandez will be expecting that. Franks has sourced a boat for us. We're going to try and sail to Florida," Tony told him.

"Sail? Are you sure that's a good idea?" McGee asked.

"Not my idea but seems like we don't have much choice," Tony explained. "Is Ducky there?"

"Ducky? Not at the moment, why?" McGee asked.

"I'm worried about Gibbs. He's sick." Tony said by way of explanation.

"How sick?" McGee asked.

"Well if I knew that, McGee, I wouldn't need Ducky," Tony snapped.

"Okay, Tony. I'll get him to call you. Where are you now?" McGee enquired.

"We're on the 180 heading east to La Pesca. Cell coverage seems okay, so you should be able get me," Tony informed him.

"Okay, well be careful," McGee said before the call ended.

In the offices of NCIS, Ziva and Abby had been listening to McGee as he spoke to Tony. As soon as Abby heard McGee mention that someone was sick, her worry barometer rose immediately. The moment he hung up she pounced on him.

"Sick? Who's sick, McGee? What's going on? Is it Tony? Gibbs? McGee, answer me!" Abby demanded anxiously.

"I would if you'd let me, Abs," McGee said standing up. "It's Gibbs."

"Gibbs? They found him? Oh no, what's wrong with him?" Abby asked desperately.

"I don't know, Abs. He didn't say. He wanted to speak to Ducky," McGee told her.

"Ducky? That means he's worried," Abby replied, steadily becoming frantic.

"Don't worry, Abby," Ziva said, stopping her pacing by giving her a hug. "This is Gibbs. He is strong. Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll be fine."

As she comforted Abby, McGee made the call to Ducky. He explained what was going on and told him as much as he knew. Ducky agreed to call Tony immediately.

-----------------

Gibbs woke with a start from his slumber as Tony's cell phone rang beside him. Tony answered it quickly. Gibbs blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. His head was killing him now. His vision blurred on and off.

"Yeah, DiNozzo!" Tony said answering the phone.

"Ah, Anthony, you were looking for me," Ducky said calmly.

"Yeah, Ducky," Tony said, casting a quick glance at Gibbs as he stirred. "I'm worried about Gibbs."

"So I heard. What are his symptoms?" Ducky asked, hoping a description would help him diagnose what was wrong.

"I'm not sure. He's getting sick, sweating and shivering. I'm pretty sure he's getting stomach cramps," Tony said, describing what he had witnessed by observing Gibbs. As he spoke, Gibbs turned to him, unimpressed that Tony was talking about him as if he wasn't there.

"I'm fine, DiNozzo," he growled.

"You're not fine, Boss," Tony replied bravely. "He's grouchy too, Ducky."

"Did he eat anything unusual?" Ducky asked soberly.

"I don't know, Ducky. Maybe you should ask him?" Tony said, handing the cell phone to Gibbs.

"Hey, Duck," Gibbs said quietly.

"Jethro, tell me exactly how you feel, and I don't want to hear any of your usual, I'm fine, lines," Ducky said insistently.

"Ducky, don't waste your time, there's nothing you can do. I'm sure Raul put something into the water," Gibbs admitted. Tony and Franks both turned their heads towards him in surprise. They couldn't understand why he hadn't said anything to them.

"Okay," Ducky said, trying to hide his worry. "So are you saying you've been poisoned?"

"I think so," Gibbs replied quite composed.

"Well then you need to get to a hospital, Jethro," Ducky told him without hesitation.

"I can't, Duck," Gibbs replied. "It's too risky."

"Jethro, we don't know what he's given you or how much you've ingested. You need to be treated and the sooner the better. If you leave it too long…. well……lets just say it won't end well," Ducky pointed out.

"I'll wait until we get back to the States," Jethro insisted.

"It could be too late by then, Jethro. Early gastric lavage could save your life. Please, listen to me. It's not worth risking your life," Ducky pleaded.

"I'm a dead man if he finds me, Duck," Gibbs responded, referring to Raul. He knew he'd come after him. Raul hadn't exacted the revenge he was hoping for.

"How long will it take you to get to Florida?" Ducky asked.

"I've no idea. Two, maybe three days depending on the winds," Gibbs replied.

"That's too long, Jethro," Ducky warned, hating the helplessness that he felt being so far from his ailing friend. "Don't do this, Jethro. Get to a hospital, please."

"Duck, don't worry. I'm feeling better already," Gibbs lied, hoping to allay his friend's fears. "It was probably nothing. Look, we're getting close to the coast. We'll call you when we find our ride."

Tony looked at the man sitting next to him, with a quizzical look, as he hung up the phone. Gibbs turned and met his gaze. He knew Tony was concerned and deep down he was grateful, but now wasn't the time for sentiment. They still had to get to the boat and then cross the Gulf of Mexico. Gibbs could feel the cold sweat on his face. He licked his parched lips. He could do with some water but was afraid it would make him sick again. As if he could read Gibbs' mind, Tony picked up a bottle of water and handed it to his ailing boss. Gibbs held the bottle, contemplating whether or not to drink.

"Boss, you really should drink something. You'll feel a lot worse if you become dehydrated," Tony advised sheepishly.

"Okay, Dr. DiNozzo," Gibbs replied with a wry smile. In spite of how lousy he felt, he decided to try and make it easier on his friends and make out he was doing better than he actually was. He wondered, though, how long he could keep up the pretence.

_**A/N - thats it for this chapter. Chapter 9 will be posted soon. Thanks for all your reviews. **_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Meanwhile a couple of hundred kilometres away, Raul Hernandez had just received a call telling him that a shot-up car had been found at a rest stop on the 180. They also had report that a truck was stolen from the same rest stop. Raul smiled. He now had a lead on what Gibbs and company were driving and an idea of where they were heading. He told the officer who called to put out an alert to locate the truck with orders not to engage the occupants at all. They were to report its position directly to him. He was a firm believer that if you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself.

With Hernandez hot on their trail, Mike Franks pulled up to the gates of a small marina in the town of La Pesca. He parked the truck outside a small building that was surrounded by boats in dry dock. He told Tony and Gibbs to stay in the truck, that he wouldn't be long. He entered the building and after only a couple of minutes emerged accompanied by a local man. He glanced over at the truck before turning towards the water's edge and pointing along the coast. Mike watched and listened intently and then shook the man's hand. He bid him farewell and returned to his friends waiting in the truck.

"So?" Tony asked, wondering what that was all about.

"So, we've got a boat," Franks reported. Gibbs smiled at Frank's curtness but Tony felt frustrated at the lack of information.

"Okay….what kind of boat?" Tony asked nervously.

"One that's going to get us to the Florida coast," Franks replied, winking over at Gibbs. "Come on. We leave the truck here."

Tony climbed out the driver's side door and hurried around to help Gibbs out of the passenger side. By the time he got around, Gibbs was already out. He noticed that Gibbs looked peaky as he gulped deep breaths of the salty sea air. Franks walked ahead of them, in the direction that his friend had been pointing. Gibbs and Tony followed him along the wooden pier until they reached an impressive looking 30-foot yacht. Tony's eyes widened at the sight. It was a beautiful looking boat, sleek white hull, dual masts and varnished timber deck. Her name "Jolita" was painted in gold on the stern. Gibbs too was impressed. He could appreciate the workmanship that went into building such a fine vessel. By the time he had climbed on board, Franks was already below deck, checking it out. After a quick reconnaissance, he poked his head back up through the hatch.

"Looks like Rico stocked her up for the journey," he told them. "We can be underway in twenty minutes."

"Cool," Tony replied. "Can I drive?"

Franks and Gibbs exchanged glances and Gibbs shook his head. The kid hadn't a clue.

"It's not a T-bird you know, DiNozzo. How many boats have you sailed?" Gibbs asked, already knowing the answer.

"Well, I kinda preferred boats of the engine variety," Tony told him. "Never really saw the point of a boat without an engine."

"This boat has an engine, Tony," Franks told him. "But we only use it for getting in and out of the harbours. This is a sail boat, DiNozzo, a communion of man and nature."

As Franks was teasing Tony, Gibbs was hit by another violent stomach cramp. He doubled over from the pain. Franks saw him reach for the grab rails for support.

"Are you doing okay, Probie?" he asked, already knowing the answer the stubborn so-and-so would give.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied, through gritted teeth. "I'm fine," he said, turning away and facing the open sea, trying to breathe through the discomfort.

Tony shot Franks a concerned look. Deep down all he wanted to do was to put Gibbs back in the truck and take him to the nearest hospital. But he knew that there was no way Gibbs was turning back now.

"Boss?" Tony said, walking over beside him. "How about you hit the bunk and Franks and I will take first watch, okay? It's been a long night."

Gibbs turned to the younger agent and placed his hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He appreciated Tony's concern but could never manage to voice his appreciation. Despite this, Tony knew.

"You sure you can manage?" Gibbs asked, turning to Franks. He knew Mike had some sailing experience, but a boat like this needed a crew.

"Sure thing, haven't I got DiNozzo to crew?" Mike replied, nodding towards the uncomfortable looking agent. He knew that Gibbs wouldn't agree to rest unless he was feeling pretty bad. Mike did his best to hide his concerns and continued preparing the boat for cast-off. He watched as Gibbs went below deck and turned to DiNozzo.

"Keep and eye on him," he said to the younger agent.

"Do you really think heading out to sea is a good idea with Gibbs as sick as he is?" Tony asked.

"We don't really have a choice," Franks reminded him. "You call that doctor friend of yours, give him our heading and tell him to have the U.S. Coast Guard on standby, just in case."

DiNozzo agreed and used his cell to make the call. He explained everything to Ducky. He also told Ducky that once they got out to sea that his cell phone would not work but that they had a short wave radio on the boat. Franks had plotted a course for Pensacola, Florida. If the weather was favourable, they should be there in three days. Needless to say, Ducky was more interested in how Jethro was doing. He was trying his best to narrow down the list of possible toxins based on his symptoms. However, still his list remained too long.

Once Tony had finished his call, Franks called him over and gave him a crash course in sailing. Soon after, Mike untied the boat from its mooring, Tony donned a life belt, much to Frank's amusement and they were cruising out of the harbour. As Mike steered, Tony popped below deck to check on Gibbs. He was relieved to see that Gibbs was actually sleeping and looked almost relaxed had it not been for the sheen of perspiration on his brow and the little twitches every now and again. It was going to be a long few days.

An hour had passed since they had cast off. Tony and Franks were above deck, appreciating the fine weather. If it hadn't been for that uneasy feeling in the pit of Tony's stomach, he would have felt like he was on vacation. He looked back towards Mexico and realised that he could no longer see the coast. They were well and truly at sea.

"All right, DiNozzo, let's see what you're made of," Franks shouted to him as he sat up front on the bow, looking ahead of them. Tony stood up and walked back towards the stern, to the helm where Franks stood.

"Do you want me to steer?" Tony asked, sounding a little too excited at the prospect.

"Not exactly," Franks replied with a grin. "We're going to hoist the main sail."

"Cool," Tony replied, standing with his hands on his hips and craning his neck to see the top of the mast.

"Well, don't just stand there," Franks said impatiently. "Start pulling!"

Tony looked at him, considerably bemused. He had to ask.

"Pulling what?"

"The blue rope over there, green horn," Franks mocked. Tony looked to where Franks was pointing. The rope was secured around a grip on the port side. Tony released the rope and started pulling as Franks had ordered. One hand over the other he pulled and pulled. Soon he could to see the fruits of his labour as the massive white sail began to rise. As the crest of the sail neared the top of the mast, the wind began to catch it and soon it billowed outwards and filled with the warm gulf air. Tony secured the rope and then stood back and admired the sight proudly. He turned to see Franks smiling at him. The wind took hold and carried the vessel across the waves with ease.

Tony was filled, momentarily, with a sense of achievement as the boat surged through the water. Then the euphoria faded and the anxiety returned. They were at the mercy of the sea for the next few days. No phones, no TV, no people and, more importantly, no doctor if Gibbs got any worse.

_**A/N – apologies to those of you who sail for my lack of sailing knowledge. If anyone can correct any errors (of which there are many, I'm sure), please do. I'll amend as appropriate.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N - thanks again to my wonderful readers and reviewers. It's going to hot up now....I promise!!**_

_Chapter 10_

Raul Hernandez left his officers nursing their wounds and drove himself to the rest stop where Gibbs' & Tony's hire car was discovered. One very irate native was still waiting in the diner for news of his missing truck. Hernandez spoke to the man briefly and to local officers who were investigating the theft. So far there had only been one sighting of the truck heading east in the direction of the coast. Hernandez decided to follow that road towards the coast and hoped that another sighting would be called in as he drove.

Meanwhile, on board the Jolita, Gibbs was waking from his sleep. He opened his eyes and looked around. His vision was blurred and for a moment he had no idea where he was. The metallic taste in his mouth was getting worse and the ache in his gut was almost constant. He licked his parched lips before sitting upright in the bunk. He felt clammy and noticed that his chest hurt and he was struggling for breath. He had to get some air. He reached for the edge of the bunk to help him get to his feet. It was then he noticed that the fingers on both his hands were numb. He clenched and released his fists several times in an attempt to get the blood flowing again. It didn't do much good. As he stood, it became obvious to him that his balance was also affected. Regardless, he felt his way along the gangway and up the few steps, out of the hatch and on to the deck for some precious sea air.

Franks and DiNozzo were together at the rear of the boat, quietly sitting and watching the swell of the ocean and appreciating the warmth of the sun. Tony stood up straight away when he saw a flushed looking Gibbs emerge from below deck.

"Boss, what are you doing up?" he asked, surprised to see him.

"Needed some air," Gibbs replied, straightening up as best he could, closing his eyes and deeply inhaling the sea air. As he did so he swayed dangerously, so much so that Tony ran and grabbed him to stop him toppling over.

"Woah! Easy there, Boss," Tony said, guiding him to the seats behind the helm. "Why don't you sit here for a while?"

"How are you doing, Probie?" Franks asked, noticing how feverish his former apprentice looked.

"Never better," Gibbs replied sarcastically, his words slurring slightly. He tried yet again to put his best foot forward but could sense that his two friends weren't buying it. There was only so much he could hide. He knew whatever Raul had laced his water with was probably killing him. He had no idea how long he would suffer but being the kind of man he was, burdening his friends was not an option.

"Here you go, Boss," Tony said, handing him a bottle of water. "You look like you could do with it."

Gibbs didn't argue and sipped the water. Everything tasted of metal. As he sat there, looking across the green ocean, he felt his heart race every now and again. He was having heart palpitations. Franks and DiNozzo were scrutinising his every move, every facial expression, every laboured breath. He tried to ignore their scrutiny.

The sun was high in the sky by now. The wind whipped around them and continued to propel their vessel onwards towards the US coast. The abundance of air on deck encouraged Gibbs to remain there. At least out there, he no longer felt like he was suffocating.

"Mike," Gibbs said with as much strength as he could muster. "Why don't you get some rest? DiNozzo and I can manage here," he continued, his breathlessness becoming more evident.

Franks looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Probie, I don't think you could manage to stand, never mind man this boat," Franks pointed out. Gibbs gave a defeated smile. He knew Mike was right.

"Let DiNozzo take the helm. I'll keep an eye on him. I can manage that much," Gibbs suggested. Tony's eyes widened at the prospect of driving, as he called it. Franks saw his almost child-like reaction and shook his head with a smile.

"Ah, hell. I guess he can't do too much damage way out here," Franks replied. "I'll grab a couple of hours. Wake me up if you need me….and try not to sink us, DiNozzo."

Gibbs agreed and DiNozzo was quickly over to take the helm from Franks.

"Aye, aye Captain!" DiNozzo replied.

He was tempted to make reference to Captain Jack Sparrow and the Pirates of the Caribbean movies but knew that his impression would be lost on Gibbs. So instead he smiled to himself as he imagined being a pirate, sailing The Black Pearl, singing and swigging rum. Happy in his imaginary world, Tony took charge of the Jolita.

----------------

Back on the mainland, Raul Hernandez was driving when a call came over the radio that the missing truck had been located in the town of La Pesca. There was no sign of the Americans however. Hernandez was relieved that the truck had been found. It meant that he now knew that Gibbs and company hadn't tried to cross the border. Clever boy, he thought; he's getting out of Mexico by sea, quite unpredictable. Gibbs must be feeling the effects of the arsenic by now. He smiled wryly at the thought of Gibbs writhing in agony. No more than he deserves, he thought. He increased his speed and followed the route towards La Pesca. He was only about an hours drive away.

By the time he reached La Pesca it was late afternoon. He drove to where the truck had been found. He got out of the car to speak to a local police officer. They had asked around, but no one had noticed it arriving or had seen anyone around it. Hernandez surveyed the environs and immediately noticed the boat yard further up the road. He took one of the officers with him and went into the office.

"Let me see your boat manifest," Hernandez ordered the owner, Rico Valdez.

Valdez handed over a ledger with a list of boat charters and their intended routes. Hernandez read the names, but nothing jumped out at him.

"Have any of your boats gone out today?" Hernandez asked, sizing up the little man behind the counter.

"No, senor," the owner lied. Mike Franks was his friend and he would do his best to delay the police.

Hernandez was frustrated. Had he been wrong? Why else would they have dumped the truck so close to this place? He looked at the list again.

"How many boats do you have?" he asked Valdez.

"Eight," the owner replied.

"Eight?" Hernandez said. "Then why are there only seven listed as sailed?"

"Em, the other is my private boat," Rico stammered. As Hernandez walked out the door and looked up and down the marina, he cursed. Hernandez returned.

"Where is it?" he asked crossly.

Rico knew the game was up. Franks had told him that if the police came to him, he was to say that the boat had been stolen.

"What? She is moored outside," he said, knowing that she was long gone.

"There is no boat outside," Hernandez told him, watching his reaction. Valdez did his best to feign surprise and ran to the door. From then on he cursed and shouted that his boat had been stolen. He acted the distraught owner very convincingly. Hernandez had no reason not to believe him.

"Can you describe the boat?" he asked, taking notes as Rico described the schooner to him. "Does it have a locator on it?"

Rico told him it had but wasn't sure if it was active. Hernandez told him to check it. Valdez did as he was ordered, going online to check if it was signalling. Hernandez stood over his shoulder watching his every move.

After a few minutes, Hernandez had all the information he needed. He turned to the local police officer and asked where he could hire a speedboat. The officer looked confused as to why a commandante would want to be involved in the investigation into the theft of a boat, let alone go after it. He informed Hernandez that the police had a police launch further up the coast and that it would be sent to look for the missing boat. Hernandez snapped at the young officer, pulled rank and ordered him to find him a speedboat. The officer ran off and quickly returned with the address of another hire company.

Hernandez hurried to his car and quickly drove to a marina further along the coast. He paid the boat owner cash to pilot the speed cruiser. He had an idea now of what heading Franks and company were taking. So he told Morales, the speedboat owner, to head out at full speed in that direction. He knew Franks and Gibbs were in a sailboat so with the extra speed, they should catch up with them sooner rather than later.

* * *

On board the Jolita, Tony was still at the helm and after two hours the novelty was wearing off. He glanced over at Gibbs, who was lying curled on his side on the white fibreglass seat that ran along the port side. Tony noticed him shivering and went below briefly to grab a blanket for him. As he re-emerged from the hatch, he thought he saw another boat in the distance. He passed no remarks on it as it appeared miles away. He gently placed the blanket over Gibbs' shoulders. As softly as he could he placed the back of his hand on Gibbs' brow. He was burning up. He stirred slightly at Tony's touch and mumbled something incoherent.

Tony was getting more and more concerned. He set the helm on automatic and sat beside Gibbs' sleeping form and listened to his short, rapid breathing. He really wished Ducky was there. He looked out over the side towards the water and noticed that the boat he had observed earlier was getting closer. It appeared to be cutting through the water at significant speed. Tony returned to the helm and took out a set of binoculars and trained them on the approaching vessel. He could see that it was a speedboat and from what he could see, there were two people on board. He wondered what they were doing so far out to sea.

He looked back at Gibbs. He decided that Gibbs was his priority. He went back below deck and took a towel and wet it with cool water. He grabbed a bottle of water and some paracetamol from the first aid kit. He had to try and get Gibbs' temperature down. He went back on deck and sat back beside Gibbs. Gently, he placed the cool towel on Gibbs' forehead. Immediately Gibbs stirred. His eyes opened and he instinctively tried to sit up.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony said. "I didn't mean to wake you. It's just that you're burning up and I thought….."

"Thanks," Gibbs said groggily, much to Tony's surprise. Gibbs never says thanks. He must really be sick, Tony thought.

"Take these," Tony said, handing Gibbs two paracetamol pills and the bottle of water. Gibbs straightened up and took the pills from Tony. He managed to swallow them and as he did so, wondered how long they'd actually stay down.

"Hmm, that boat is still heading this way," Tony said to Gibbs, who turned and looked out to sea in the same direction that Tony was looking.

"What kind of boat?" Gibbs asked, unable to see clearly.

"It's a motor boat. That's all I can tell. She's travelling at some speed," Tony commented.

"Can you see markings?" Gibbs asked naturally worried. "Is it a police launch?"

"No, there are no markings that I can see," Tony replied, understanding Gibbs' concerns. "They're probably just day trippers or tourists."

"They're a bit far from shore to be tourists," Gibbs said seriously. He could hear the engine of the boat by now and knew that they must be drawing close.

"Can you see them yet?" Gibbs asked Tony as he strained to see. One minute his vision was clear, the next it blurred and distorted.

Gibbs stood and staggered towards the hatch. He was very unsteady, Tony noticed.

"Where are you going, Boss?" Tony asked, wondering what he was up to.

"To get my weapon," Gibbs replied.

Tony turned and looked back at the approaching vessel. He saw nothing threatening about it.

"Do you really think that's necessary, Boss?" Tony asked as Gibbs disappeared below. He walked over and stuck his head through the hatch. Gibbs reappeared with his Sig tucked into his waistband.

"Just in case," he said, as he summoned the strength to climb back up the few steps.

Tony resisted the urge to give him a hand as he knew is would be unwelcome. Gibbs was a proud man and hated to admit weakness. They returned to the stern of the boat and watched the boat as it drew closer. Tony waved his arm and the pilot in the speedboat waved back at him.

"You see, Boss, they're friendly," Tony said.

Gibbs said nothing. He felt cold and pulled the blanket back over his shoulders. He was starting to feel nauseous again and bent his head forward towards his knees to try and quell the feeling. He could hear the engine of the approaching vessel grow louder as they neared them. Soon the unidentified boat was alongside the sailboat. Tony walked over to the port side and leaned his hands on the edge to greet them.

"Ahoy there!" he said with a grin, admiring his own use of nautical terms. He had barely gotten the words out when the passenger of the boat drew a handgun and fired it without warning or provocation.

Tony immediately felt a crushing pain in his chest as he lurched forward in shock. The impact caused him to lose his balance and the momentum took him over the side and he plunged into the water.

The second Gibbs heard the shot, he pulled his Sig Sauer from his belt and stood up shakily, just in time to witness the young agent topple over the side

"Tony!" he yelled rushing to the side of the boat. "You bastard," he shouted, firing his weapon in the general direction of the boat. He couldn't tell if he had hit anything. His vision was still playing up. He couldn't positively identify who the shooter was but he didn't have to. It could only be one person-- Raul Hernandez.

The speedboat's engine accelerated and it sped ahead of the Jolita away from Gibbs' shots. Gibbs searched over the side for Tony and was relieved to see the luminous yellow of his life vest in the water alongside. Without a second thought, he jumped overboard and using every ounce of strength he could muster, he swam towards Tony, who was floating face down in the water.

**_A/N - a little cliffie just to make it interesting!!!_**


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N - decided not to torture you with too long of a wait for an update. Hope you think its worth it!_**

Chapter 11

The shots and shouts roused Mike Franks from his slumber. He could hear the engine of another boat outside and instantly knew there was trouble. He grabbed Tony's weapon, which was on his bunk, and ran out on deck. His heart sank when he realised that Gibbs and DiNozzo were nowhere to be seen. He watched as a speedboat, which was ahead of the Jolita in the water, made a sharp 180-degree turn back towards him. Without provocation, the passenger raised his weapon, this time aiming towards Mike. Without a second thought, Franks took aim and fired a volley of shots in the direction of the boat. The gunman shuddered and dropped his weapon. Franks could tell he had hit him. The driver of the speedboat panicked as his passenger lost his balance and fell mortally wounded into the sea. He accelerated his boat for all she was worth and high-tailed it out of there and back in the direction from which he came. He wasn't sticking around for the fallout.

As all this was happening, Gibbs was swimming furiously towards DiNozzo. The Jolita continued ahead at 15 knots, quickly leaving them in its wake. Tony was floating face down in the water when he reached him. He immediately turned him over and checked to see if he was breathing. To his surprise, he was. There was blood in the water, so he examined Tony to try and find where it was coming from. The only clue was the small bullet hole in the padding of the life vest. The location of the wound, in the upper left hand side of his chest, left Gibbs fearing the worst. This was his fault, he realised. Tony's been shot and they were probably going to drown all because of him.

"I've got you, Tony," Gibbs said, pulling DiNozzo's unconscious form closer to him and fighting to keep his head out of the water. "Hold on," he pleaded desperately.

Gibbs could hear the engine of the speedboat approaching closer once again. He knew that all their attackers had to do was aim the boat at them and they wouldn't stand a chance bobbing helplessly in the water. He thought he heard more shots and tried to see what was going on. Then he saw one of the occupants of the speedboat hit the water. Again, he was unable to tell but hoped that it was Hernandez. He kicked his legs furiously to stay afloat and watched with relief as the speedboat sped away from where they floated.

However, they weren't out of the woods yet. Their sailboat continued sailing away from them. Gibbs watched as it grew smaller against the skyline.

_Come on, Mike! Turn! I can't keep this up for much longer. _

Meanwhile, Franks was searching the water for his friends. Where the hell were they? He rushed to the stern of the boat, his eyes scanning the water for the two agents. Then something in the water caught his eye, the unmistakable yellow of a life vest barely visible in the boat's wake. He grabbed the binoculars that were hanging from the wheel and trained them on the yellow speck. He knew DiNozzo had been wearing a life vest because he had earlier derived great amusement from teasing him. It was hard to see for sure but it had to be DiNozzo. Unfortunately, he could see no sign of Gibbs anywhere.

He knew he had to turn the Jolita around and go back for them. However, this is a very difficult task when you're alone in a sailboat minus a crew. He started immediately trimming the sail and turned the rudder hard to port to come around. His actions started the vessel on a wide left turn. He tried to keep his eyes on the yellow vest to maintain his bearings. In the distance he could see the speedboat disappearing into the evening sun. In Frank's mind, it seemed to be taking so long to get the boat around.

For Gibbs it seemed even longer. In his weakened state he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on to Tony. The feeling was all but lost in his fingers and he couldn't feel his toes. His lungs felt as though they were going to burst from the exertion. He was exhausted. His body was screaming at him to rest. More than anything he wanted to close his eyes and sleep. Again his vision was failing him. The sky and the sea seemed to meld into one blur of blue. He continued kicking his leaden legs, desperate to keep them both afloat. He was grateful that Tony had been wearing the life vest. He hoped that if he succumbed to the sea, that at least Tony might stay afloat long enough for Franks to get to him. He twisted in the water, trying to see where the boat was. He could see the shape of it in the distance but was unable to tell if it was going away from them or coming towards them.

As he gasped for breath in the chilly water, he continued to support Tony's head, keeping it clear of the salt water. Tony was deathly pale by now, which caused Gibbs great anguish. He couldn't tell whether or not he was still alive. His fingers were too numb to take a pulse, and with Tony wearing the life vest, he couldn't see whether or not his chest was rising. He placed his hand barely over Tony's mouth and was sure he could feel the warmth of his breathing. He allowed himself to relax in the knowledge that Tony was alive. He had no idea how long he had been floating there and wondered if he had passed out for a while because when he opened his eyes, all of a sudden there was the white hull of a boat looming very close to them.

"Hold on, Probie," Franks hollered, much to Gibbs relief.

Getting the two men back onto the Jolita wasn't going to be easy. Franks launched the small lifeboat, which was normally tied to the stern of the sailboat. He rowed over to the men floating in the water. Gibbs was never in his life so delighted to see Franks' yellow smoke-stained hands reaching out.

"You could've warned me you were taking a swim," Franks quipped comically. Gibbs would have laughed if he'd had the strength. Franks' expression altered when he saw how exhausted Gibbs was.

"Take…..take…Tony…..," Gibbs stammered through each rasping breath. "…..been shot…"

Franks did as Gibbs asked and grabbed the neck of Tony's life vest and, using all his strength, tried to haul his limp body onto the dingy. It was a difficult task to manage without capsizing the dingy. As Franks hauled, Gibbs used the last of his strength to get under Tony's body and push him up towards Franks. It worked and eventually they had Tony in the boat. Franks then turned his attention to Gibbs, who was starting to flounder in the water. With the whole of his energy sapped, there was nothing left and Gibbs slid below the surface.

"No you don't!" Franks said crossly, as he leaned out and grabbed one of Gibbs' hands as he disappeared under water. Leaning dangerously over the side of the boat, he pulled Gibbs to the surface once more. Gibbs coughed and choked, expelling the water he inhaled. Franks did his best to get Gibbs on the dingy, but it was no easy task.

"C'mon, Probie. You gotta help me," Franks shouted, as he desperately tried to get Gibbs on board. Franks could see that Gibbs was close to passing out, so slapped him deliberately hard on the face to bring him back around. Once Gibbs had his arms over the side of the boat, Franks managed to grab a hold of the belt of his trousers and used that to haul him in. Gibbs passed out on the floor of the small boat almost immediately and Franks sat back, tired but relieved that he had the two men. Now to get them back on board the Jolita.

His arms ached as he rowed to where he had anchored the sailboat. He reached for the rope and pulled the dingy right up to the diving platform at the stern. He was considering how he was going to get the unconscious men on board when he heard a distinct low moan. He turned to see from whom it was coming. Tony started moving slightly, his face contorted in agony as he regained consciousness.

"Woah, there DiNozzo. Take it easy, kid," Mike said, kneeling close to him and putting his hand on his chest to stop him sitting up too quickly. "You've been shot. I need to get you back on the boat. Can you stand?" Mike asked, hoping the answer was yes.

Tony took a deep breath and slowly tried to sit up with Frank's assistance.

"There you go," Franks said. Then Tony saw Gibbs lying face down in front of him for the first time.

"Gibbs!" he said, mustering what strength he could. "What happened?"

"Darn fool jumped in after you," Franks informed him. "Come on, up you get."

"Is he…..?"

"No, just exhausted. I'll come back for him," Franks replied.

With Franks' help Tony managed to get shakily to his feet. Franks managed to guide him safely back onto the sailboat. He put the wounded man on the seating at the helm while he went back to get Gibbs. Mike rolled him on to his back and tried to wake him.

"Come on, Probie. I could really do with you being awake right now," Franks said genuinely. He tried to get behind Gibbs and pull him by the shoulders. Gibbs was heavy and he struggled. "Wake up, Gunny! That's an order," he yelled, the strength in the order even startling DiNozzo. He patted Gibbs on the face and as he did so, he saw his eyelids flutter.

"Come on, Marine, on your feet," Mike ordered. Gibbs looked bleary eyed at his friend. Mike could see that he wasn't focusing on him. The bluish tinge on Gibbs' lips and his fingernails gave Mike great cause for concern. He knew that the water wasn't that cold. Gibbs' shortness of breath made Franks realise that his friend was in respiratory distress. Out here, that wasn't good. He put his body behind Gibbs and pushed him to his feet. The two men fell unceremoniously onto the dive platform of the Jolita. Both of them lay there for a while, trying to catch their breaths.

Gibbs was sure he was dying. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard and fast, it hurt. Every breath he took seemed to provide him with less and less oxygen. He couldn't think straight and his mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. As he lay there gasping for breath, the rising moon appeared to be dancing in the sky. His mind urged him to get up, but his body refused to comply. Someone needed help, but he couldn't remember who. He lay on his side and was mesmerised by the sea lapping against the hull of the boat. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds until they turned into voices, familiar, comforting voices.

Franks turned his eyes to Gibbs, who lay close to him. He could hear his constant struggle for breath, but he was helpless to do anything for him. He looked back up onto the deck of the boat and saw DiNozzo slumped on the seat where he had left him. He decided that Tony was the priority and went to him, leaving Gibbs apparently unconscious on the dive platform. He could see blood staining the clothing beneath Tony's life vest and running down his arm, dripping onto the deck. He had to get the vest off him to see what the damage was. As he was removing the vest, the associated pain woke DiNozzo again. He cried out as Franks pulled it over his injured side.

He then opened Tony's shirt to reveal a bullet hole just above his heart and below his shoulder. He couldn't be sure, but judging by the fact that DiNozzo wasn't coughing blood, he presumed that the lung was undamaged. The wound was bleeding heavily though. He leaned Tony forward slightly to check for an exit wound. There was none.

"Where's Gibbs?" Tony asked, weakly despite his own suffering.

"He's on the platform, sleeping it off. I have to stop this bleeding?" Franks explained.

"Is he okay?" Tony asked, his concern not abating.

"He's been better," Franks replied honestly, as he examined Tony's wound. "We're at least two days from Florida. That bullet will have to come out before then," Franks told him seriously.

"How bad is it?" Tony wondered.

"Well, I'm no doctor but it looks like it's missed everything vital and is lodged in your shoulder," Franks informed him.

"Can you get it out?" Tony asked bravely.

"I don't know. I might cause more damage if I try," Franks admitted.

"Okay, let's stop the bleeding and then get Gibbs below deck. I'm okay for now," Tony decided.

"Right," Franks replied. He stood up and hurried below deck. After a couple of minutes he re-emerged carrying towels, a first aid kit and a bottle of bourbon.

"Mike, what happened to the shooter?" Tony asked, realising that he had no recollection of much after being shot.

"He came a bit too close and I got him with your pistol," Mike told him.

"Was it Hernandez?"

"I think so," Mike replied, pressing a towel painfully over Tony's wound.

"Aargh!" Tony cried, as the pressure on his injured shoulder sent an explosion of pain shooting through him. He leaned on Franks, panting, fearing for a moment that he would pass out again.

"I can wrap it up for now and immobilise it," he said, lifting up the bottle of bourbon. "Some of this over it will help stave off infection," he told him. "It'll hurt like a son-of-a-bitch though."

Tony knew too well that it would, but he also knew that it would be a while before he got proper medical help and would have to make do.

"Okay, do it!" he said, already wincing at the prospect.

Mike unscrewed the cap, removed the towel and poured a small amount directly onto the bullet hole. Tony again cried out and was close to tears by the time he had finished. He was woozy and wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake. Mike could see that the color had drained completely from the young agent's face.

"You lie down and rest while I check on your boss," he said, feeling sorry for the youngster. DiNozzo didn't argue and lay on his uninjured side on the seat.

Franks returned to the back of the boat, down the couple of steps onto the diving platform where Gibbs was still lying. He could see him shivering intermittently and knew he had to get him out of the wet clothes. He bent down and tried to help Gibbs sit up. He got very worried when Gibbs looked up at him with this vacant look in his eyes and said crossly;

"Sshhh!"

"What?" Franks asked, becoming puzzled.

"I can hear her," Gibbs replied vaguely.

"Who, Probie? There's no one else here," Franks pointed out, trying to get Gibbs to his feet. Gibbs struggled free, making it clear that he did not want his help.

"Shannon. I can't believe she came. It's so good to hear her voice again," Gibbs said, genuinely believing he could hear his dead wife talking to him.

Mike's heart sank when he realised that Gibbs was losing his grip on reality. This was not good. He started to wonder if he had been hit in the head and was suffering from a brain injury. He certainly wasn't making any sense any more.

"Come on, Probie. You're freezing," Mike said, reaching back on deck for another of the towels. He draped it over Gibbs shoulder and gently coaxed him to his feet. Gibbs turned to look at him and Franks saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" Gibbs asked with a puzzled look on his face. Mike's fears grew. His friend was acting so out of character, it scared him.

"I'm just here to help you inside," Mike said, helping Gibbs back on deck.

As he stepped on deck, Gibbs noticed Tony lying on the seat close by, and the bloody towel strapped to his shoulder and his blood-soaked shirt strewn on the deck.

"DiNozzo? What happened to Tony?" he asked desperately.

"He was shot. Don't you remember? You told me only a few minutes ago," Franks said, hoping to jog Gibbs' memory. Gibbs looked at his friend, his face painted with confusion.

"What's happening to me, Mike?" he asked in a moment of clarity.

"I don't know, Probie. You'll be fine once you get some rest," Mike said, taking Gibbs below deck. "We'll get you warmed up and you'll be fine," Mike repeated, as if trying to convince himself.

Mike had lived through many daunting and distressing times throughout his career, but he couldn't remember ever having been as scared as he was right now. They were miles from civilisation, with one man shot and another with what he suspected to be a brain injury. They needed help and fast. Their fate was in his hands.

_**A/N – I know all this Gibbs O/C stuff may be weird but arsenic poisoning can result in neurological issues, as well as several other symptoms, incl. vision, breathing difficulties, etc (according to the www). Hope it's not all too strange and makes sense.**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Back at NCIS headquarters, Abby was in the bullpen with Ziva and McGee, pacing nervously back and forth. The last they had heard, Tony had contacted Ducky and informed him that they were sailing to Pensacola. They had tried to reach Tony on his cell but there was no coverage. McGee was trying to gain illicit access into the Coast Guard system to see if there was anything he could find out. Abby couldn't wait any longer.

"I'm calling Josh," she announced with determination. The others looked at her with blank expressions. She could see by their faces that they had no clue who Josh was. "Josh, you know, in the DOD. I need to know where they are and if they're all right. He has satellites!" she said with huge emphasis on the word "satellites".

Ziva and McGee exchanged glances and nodded in agreement with Abby. They were more than a little worried at this stage. They hadn't heard anything from Tony or Gibbs in ages. Abby sat at Gibbs' desk and made the call.

-----------------

Back on board the Jolita, Mike was still below deck. He sat beside the short wave radio, which was there emergencies. He was pretty sure this qualified. He checked the handbook that Rico had left for them and then fiddled with the bandwidth dials until he was happy with it. Then he made his call. It didn't take long to reach the shore station's operator and he asked to be put through to NCIS headquarters.

Director Vance was still in his office, despite the hour, when he the call came through.

"Franks? Is that you?" he asked, struggling to hear the voice on the other end of the crackling line.

"Yes, Leon. I'm on a schooner in the middle of the Gulf and there's a problem," Franks told him calmly.

"A problem? What's wrong now?"

"Hernandez followed us out to sea. He shot DiNozzo and, Gibbs, well, he's not doing so good," Franks explained.

"Ah, hell!" Leon cursed. "What can I do?" Vance offered immediately, wanting to help his agents.

"They both need a hospital," he said before giving him their co-ordinates.

"Leave it with me. I'll see what I can do," Vance replied optimistically. "Mike….good luck!"

With that Vance hung up and took a deep breath. He knew Franks was heading for Pensacola. There was a Naval Air Training Station in Pensacola. He made a call to the Base Commander, Captain William Cawley.

"Director Vance, what can I do for you?"

"Captain, I'm hoping you can help me. I have a couple of agents on board a schooner in the Gulf. From what I understand, one of them has been shot. I really need to get them to a hospital, sooner rather than later," Leon explained.

"Do you have their last known co-ordinates?" Cawley asked.

"Yes," Vance replied, reading them to him.

"Just a minute," Captain Cawley said as he checked the location of various training vessels in the Gulf. He knew there were training manoeuvres taking place that week and searched for the nearest vessel to their location.

"It's your lucky night, Director," Cawley said jovially. "We've got a squadron training for carrier landings about 50 nautical miles from their location. I can get in touch with the ship's commander and get a rescue helo launched."

"Thanks, Captain. If you work on that, I'll smooth things over with the Sec Nav," Leon said gratefully.

--------------

Back on the Jolita, Gibbs was sitting motionless on the edge of the bunk where Franks had left him. He was staring into space and shivering in his wet clothing. Despite Franks having advised him earlier to get out of them, Gibbs seemed confused as to what to do. Mike approached him and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. Gibbs turned towards him and looked startled.

"Its okay, Probie. We just need to get you warmed up," Franks said kindly. Gibbs nodded and, without speaking, started to remove his shirt. He appeared to be having some difficulty with the buttons. What Franks didn't realise was that he had no feeling in his fingers. Mike helped him and then looked around and found some old sweatshirts and pants belonging to Rico in a drawer below the bunk. They were probably not going to fit properly but at least they were dry. A short time later, Gibbs was dry and Franks had convinced him to lie down and rest.

With Gibbs safely tucked away, Franks returned up on deck. It was dark now and the stars twinkled in the clear dark sky. DiNozzo was sleeping on a seat, still in his wet clothing. Franks approached him.

"Hey, DiNozzo," he said, touching him gently on his back. Tony stirred slightly. "Wake up. You need to dry off and warm up," Franks said, worried for the young man, who remained deathly pale.

Tony opened his bleary eyes. His shoulder was throbbing and felt like it was burning. He sat up, sorely clutching his injured shoulder. The movement caused a dizzy spell and, for a moment, he felt as if he was going to be sick.

"I think I'll stay here," Tony said, looking up at Franks.

"Okay then. I'll get you some dry clothes," he said before returning below deck for a few moments. He re-emerged from the hatch carrying pants and a jacket and some blankets off one of the bunks.

"How's the boss?" Tony enquired as he started to remove his sodden trousers, with a little assistance from Franks.

"He's sleeping," Franks informed him. "I got hold of Vance and told him what happened. Hopefully, help is on the way."

"Yeah, hopefully," Tony responded faintly.

"You're not giving up on me now, are you?" Franks asked, trying to keep DiNozzo's spirits up.

"Of course not," Tony replied with a smile. "It's just I could really do with some morphine right about now."

"I know, kid. I know," Franks said, sympathising with the young agent.

Franks stayed outside with Tony and manned the boat as best he could single-handedly as Tony slept. A couple of hours had passed when he heard what sounded like a helicopter in the distance. He hoped it was the help they were waiting on. The sound grew closer and Franks turned on all the lights on the boat to help the helicopter spot them in the darkness. He began to lower the sails to make it easier for the pilots to lower a medic onto the boat. Once he had the sails lowered, he dropped anchor.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was woken from his nightmarish slumber by the sound of rotor blades whirring overhead. Because of the effect of the arsenic on his mind, he was unable to think clearly and couldn't comprehend why a helicopter would be hovering over them. His natural defence mechanism kicked in and his instinct to protect urged him to defend the boat. He got up shakily and searched the cabin for his weapon. He found it on the table in the galley. He rushed up the steps to the deck and was dazzled momentarily by the lights from the hovering aircraft and the Jolita's own light. Still unable to see clearly, he raised his weapon and fired indiscriminately in the air towards the noise and lights.

The sound of the shots made Mike, who was watching a diver be lowered from the helicopter, turn around suddenly. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Gibbs, hardly able to stand, was firing at the helicopter which had come to rescue them. The shots caused the pilot of the helo to break away and distance himself from the vessel. Gibbs continued to empty his clip towards them.

"Gibbs! Stop! No!" he shouted desperately at the sick man.

Gibbs didn't react and continued firing. It was as if he couldn't hear him. Mike knew Gibbs wasn't himself, but he had to stop him. A lucky shot could bring down the helicopter. He charged at Gibbs and tackled him to the ground, sending the weapon flying out of his hand. The impact completely knocked the wind out of Gibbs and he remained on the deck as Franks got to his feet. Gibbs eyes glared widely at Franks as he struggled to inhale any air. It felt as though every last morsel of oxygen had been knocked from his lungs and he couldn't get anymore inside. Darkness gathered from the periphery of his vision. Slowly the vision of Mike's frightened face and the glaring ship's lights disappeared into obscurity.

"God damn it, Probie!" Mike yelled at the fallen man.

"What's going on?" Tony shouted, having been woken by the shots and the commotion.

"He can't breathe. Come on, Probie, don't do this to me now," Mike pleaded, as he placed his ear close to Gibbs mouth, hoping to hear breath sounds. He couldn't hear anything.

Mike stood up and waved desperately at the helicopter to come back. Tony stood up weakly and walked over to his boss.

"Boss?" he said fearfully. Supporting his injured shoulder with his other arm, he knelt down and touched Gibbs' forehead. "Breathe, Boss. Please, Boss, breathe," he begged. "Come on, Boss!"

Tony turned and looked up to see where the helicopter was. It was returning, much to his relief.

"Hurry!" Mike yelled pointlessly at the helicopter, the his voice was swallowed by the noise of the rotors.

Within a minute, they had lowered a diver into the water. It was safer to do this than to risk the lines getting tangled in the sailboat's lines. The diver swam to the Jolita and Mike helped him on board along with his gear.

"Thank God!" Mike said, pointing towards his friend. "Hurry, he's not breathing."

The rescue diver hurried over to where Gibbs lay. He felt for a pulse and nodded to the two anxious looking men standing over him to indicate that there was a pulse. He opened his equipment bag and took out an oxygen bag and mask. He placed it over Gibbs' nose and mouth and started forcing oxygen into his lungs. DiNozzo and Franks looked on anxiously. After a few large compressions, Gibbs started to cough and gasp for air again.

"Easy," the dripping diver said to the disorientated man. "You're going to be okay."

The diver told Franks to stay with him while he checked on DiNozzo.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked in confusion.

"It's a long story, Probie. I'll tell you when you're feeling up to it," Franks replied.

Gibbs made no attempt to stand up and Franks remained with him, supporting him with his arm around him to help him sit up. Gibbs just wanted to sleep and Franks was tasked with keeping him conscious.

Meanwhile the diver gave Tony a welcome shot of morphine to help with the pain of his injury. Once Tony was more comfortable, he radioed the helicopter to give a status report. It was agreed that Tony and Gibbs would be airlifted to the carrier, USS Ronald Reagan, from which they had been dispatched. It was taking part in the training manoeuvres in the Gulf of Mexico. It had a fully equipped hospital on board. An aircrew member would then be left to assist Franks get the Jolita to Pensacola.

The tentative and dangerous task of lifting the injured men onto the helicopter was slow and arduous. Thankfully the sea was calm, which helped keep the sailboat relatively still in the water. The pilot and his crew's expertise ensured that they hovered safely at the rear of the boat, avoiding masts and ropes. First the diver hooked Gibbs to his body and they were jointly hoisted on board the Seahawk helicopter. The diver then returned to the Jolita and secured Tony and soon they both disappeared into the bowels of the helicopter.

Tony peered out of the door as the crewman was lowered on board the Jolita to assist Franks. Franks looked up and gave a thumbs-up signal to DiNozzo, who returned the signal. The Seahawk peeled away from the sailboat and headed north in the direction of the USS Ronald Reagan.

Tony turned and sat back against the side of the aircraft. A medic was leaning over Gibbs, his face unable to conceal his concern.

"How is he?" Tony asked.

"His breathing is laboured and his heart rate and BP are all over the place. What happened to this man?"

"He's been ill since yesterday. He thinks he was poisoned," Tony told him.

"That might explain his symptoms. He's very confused and, judging by his attempts to shoot us down, very agitated," the medic commented as he placed a canula in Gibbs' arm. Then he attached a bag of saline to re-hydrate him. "Do you know what he was given?"

"I wish," Tony said woefully. "He had no clue. He just said he thought it was in the water he was given."

"How long ago did he ingest it?" the medic enquired.

"I don't know. Eighteen hours ago maybe more?" Tony replied.

The medic nodded. Tony couldn't interpret the nod.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" Tony asked.

"It depends what he ingested and how much," the medic replied. "He's okay for now. Let me have a look at you," he said, starting to remove the makeshift bandage on Tony's shoulder.

Tony leaned back and closed his eyes, preparing for the discomfort that was to come. He was grateful that they were on their way to the carrier and prayed that the medical staff on board would be able to help Gibbs. He listened to the constant drone of the engines and the thumping of the rotors. The sound soon lulled him into a painless sleep.

_**A/N - again I apologise for my lack of sailing knowledge but I'm sure we can all look past it...right??!! Thanks again all you reviewers and readers. **_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Back in Washington, Director Vance was waiting anxiously for news in his office when his telephone rang.

"Sir, I have Captain Cawley on line one," his receptionist said.

"Put him through," Vance replied sternly. "Captain Cawley, you have news?"

"Yes, sir, I do. I've just received a communication from the Ronald Reagan that they have your agents Gibbs and DiNozzo on board a Seahawk helo returning to ship," Cawley informed him.

"And their condition?" Vance asked.

"Medics are on standby but I don't have any further information at this stage," Cawley replied.

"I understand," Vance said appreciatively. "Thanks for letting me know."

Vance hung up the phone and left his office to tell Gibbs' team. He knew they were still downstairs waiting for news. Ziva and Abby were leaning over McGee, who was doing something on his computer. Unknown to Vance, they were examining unauthorised satellite pictures of vessels in the Gulf of Mexico, looking for Gibbs' boat. Quietly he stole downstairs and was standing in front of them before they noticed his presence.

"Director!" Ziva said, standing up straight and, at the same time, tipping off the others.

"Agent David, I see you're busy," he said seriously.

"We're just, eh…..," McGee stammered before Vance cut him off.

"I don't want to know, McGee," he said, shaking his head. "I just came down with news of Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo."

"You have news? Please let it be good news," Abby said fretfully, unconsciously squeezing McGee's shoulder. McGee winced as she did so.

"I've just received word that they have been picked up by rescue helicopter and are being flown to the USS Ronald Reagan for treatment," he said with a hint of a smile.

"They're okay, right?" Abby asked apprehensively.

"I've no word on their condition. We'll find out more once they're on board," Vance replied. "Go home and get some rest. I'll contact you when I hear more."

McGee, Ziva and Abby exchanged glances. They had no intention of going home until they knew about their colleagues. Vance didn't really expect that they would.

"I should call Ducky and let him know," McGee said, picking up his desk phone. Vance nodded, understanding that they were a team and that more than likely they would be on the first plane to Florida the next morning.

Meanwhile, on the flight deck of the USS Ronald Reagan, the Seahawk had just landed. There was a flurry of personnel unloading the patients and securing the helicopter. Gibbs was carried on a stretcher to the hospital deck while Tony walked with the help of two medics. Once down below, Tony and Gibbs were taken to the same examination room. They both underwent a series of tests and exams. Tony had informed the doctor treating Gibbs of the suspected poisoning. The doctor took blood to test, to try and determine what type of poison was involved. Tony was being prepared for surgery to have the bullet removed from his shoulder. He was reluctant to go to the OR without knowing Gibbs' condition.

He became even more concerned as he noticed a commotion over where Gibbs lay. He strained to see what was happening. The doctor was intubating Gibbs, who had remained unconscious since the helicopter flight.

"What's happening to him?" Tony asked as medical personnel teamed around Gibbs.

"He's got pulmonary oedema. He can't breathe properly and is suffering from ventricular fibrillation," one of the medics informed him.

"What does that mean?" Tony asked in desperation.

"It means that he's got fluid on his lungs and if they can't stabilise him, he could go into cardiac arrest," he explained.

Tony felt sick to his stomach as he watched them fuss around Gibbs. He knew it was really serious. He prayed silently that his mentor would pull through.

"Agent DiNozzo, they're ready for you," a corpsman said, referring to the surgical team. Tony nodded. He didn't really want to leave Gibbs but knew he had little choice.

"Take good care of him," he said to the corpsman as he was wheeled to an adjoining room and then through to the operating theatre. His last thought before succumbing to the anaesthetic was of his boss.

--------------

Ducky returned from home to NCIS headquarters once McGee had called him. He suspected that Director Vance would use MTAC to get in touch with the Ronald Reagan. He was right. When he got there, the director was in MTAC. Ducky made it known that he was outside and that he wanted to find out about his friends. Vance was tolerant and sympathetic towards the medical examiner and knew that he would be able to interpret and understand the condition of the two agents from what the ship's surgeon would tell him.

When Ducky entered MTAC, the Senior Medical Officer of the Ronald Reagan, Captain Michael Sterling, was on screen. Vance had already been talking to the captain before Ducky entered.

"Captain Sterling. This is Dr. Mallard, our ME. Can you please update him on our agent's conditions?" Vance asked.

"Certainly. Dr. Mallard," he said acknowledging the ME's presence. "Agent DiNozzo has just come out of surgery. They removed a bullet from his shoulder. He's being treated for a slight infection, but other than that he will make a full recovery. Agent Gibbs' condition is a little more complicated. We've run some tests and we've found significant traces of arsenic in his system. From the information we've received, it's too late to perform a gastric lavage, so we've started a platelet transfusion. As you know, arsenic binds with the proteins in the blood and can result in multi-organ failure. Right now we are trying to determine the extent of the damage suffered by Agent Gibbs. When he got here he was suffering from pulmonary oedema and cardiac arrhythmias. We're treating the symptoms and hoping that the transfusion will help stabilise him sufficiently to airlift him to the medical centre in Pensacola," he informed him.

"And have you considered chelation therapy?" Ducky asked gravely.

"Yes, Doctor, but unfortunately we have no dimercaprol on board. Arsenic poisoning is not something we'd come across very often sir," Sterling replied.

"How soon can you transfer him?" Ducky asked, knowing that the longer he went without the necessary treatment, the greater the likelihood of permanent damage.

"I've explained the urgency to the ship's captain and he's authorised a Medi-vac at sun up," Sterling replied.

"Thank you, Captain," Ducky said gratefully. He looked woefully at Director Vance, who could tell by Ducky's face the seriousness of Gibbs' situation.

"Thank you, Director," Ducky said sighing as he left MTAC. He now had to give the news to the rest of Gibbs' team.

Ziva, McGee and Abby sat on the steps leading up to MTAC, waiting for news of their teammates. Abby jumped to her feet when she saw Ducky.

"Ducky?" she said meekly, half afraid of what he might tell her.

"They're receiving treatment for their injuries," he said positively. "Tony's had a bullet removed from his shoulder. He's recovering nicely. Jethro…well, Jethro is suffering from arsenic poisoning," he told them seriously.

"Arsenic?" Ziva said with surprise. "Isn't that fatal?"

"It can be. It depends on the dose. Jethro's condition is serious. He's very ill and the danger is organ failure. They're flying him to Pensacola for chelation therapy first thing in the morning. This treatment is very successful in cases of heavy metal poisoning," he explained.

He observed the young agents try to absorb what he was telling them. He knew that with Abby's scientific background, she would be grossly aware of the seriousness of arsenic poisoning and how its victims succumbed. She bit her bottom lip and tried to fight back the tears that were accumulating in her eyes. Ducky approached her and pulled her towards him in a comforting embrace. McGee hurried back to his computer terminal. He typed feverishly and then piped up.

"There's a non-stop flight to Jacksonville International leaving in two hours. We can get a connection to Pensacola. We could be there in less than six hours," McGee announced.

Abby rushed over to him and hugged him tightly.

"I take it that's a "yes" then?" McGee smiled.

"Of course it is, McGee. Hurry and book us on that flight. We have time to grab some overnight things before we go," Abby said, already rushing to the elevator.

"I'll pick you up in thirty minutes," Ziva said to the excited Goth.

Ducky smiled. It was only right that Jethro should have his family around when he needed them. He considered calling Jackson Gibbs, but decided not to worry Gibbs' father until he knew more. He wanted to see Jethro for himself first and get more of a read on the situation. For now, he had to get ready for a trip to Florida.

_TBC_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

On board the USS Ronald Reagan, Tony was sitting up in sickbay, eating some toast and feeling much better. His pain meds were doing what they were supposed to and the nausea and shock that he had been suffering from were gone. From where he sat he could see Gibbs. He was sedated and intubated in a bed opposite him. Seeing his boss so still and vulnerable was very disconcerting. Through the porthole, Tony could see the dawn was breaking. Thirty minutes later there was an increase in activity in sickbay and the medics started to prepare Gibbs for transport.

"Where are you taking him?" Tony asked one of the medics.

"He's being airlifted to Pensacola Medical Institute," the medic informed him.

"I'm coming with him," Tony said decisively.

"I don't see you listed on the manifest, sir," the medic replied.

"Well, list me then," Tony said resolutely. The medic could see that he was hell bent on getting on that flight with his friend. He made a call to flight ops and then came back to Tony.

"Looks like you've just bagged a ride to shore, sir," the medic told him. Tony was already getting out of bed and searching for his pants. With his arm in a sling, he awkwardly tried to dress. Eventually another medic noticed his struggle and lent a hand.

A half hour later, Tony was being buckled into a Seahawk helicopter that was preparing for take off. Gibbs' stretcher was secured on board and soon after, the rotors started up. With a surge of power, the helicopter gently lifted off the flight deck. Once airborne, she banked sharply to the port side and took off in a northerly direction. For most of the journey, Tony's eyes remained fixed on the ashen face of his boss. Every so often the medic on board would check his vitals and then turn and let Tony know how he was doing.

When they finally reached the base hospital in Pensacola, the helicopter came in for landing on the roof of the building. A medical team was on hand to assist unloading the patients and getting them inside. Tony was considered walking wounded and he was shown to a waiting area while Gibbs was taken into an examination room for full assessment.

A short time later, having examined the notes from the ship's surgeon, doctors moved Gibbs to an ICU room where he was to start chelation therapy immediately. There it was agreed that they should withhold sedation and allow the patient to regain consciousness. They could then assess what neurological damage, if any, had occurred as a result of the arsenic poisoning. Until the therapy started doing what it was supposed to, they chose to keep him intubated. Gibbs was settled in to his room and Tony elected to stay with him. He was feeling much better now that his pain medication had been topped up.

Tony sat there for hours and was dozing in a chair next to Gibbs' bed when he thought he heard someone entering the room. He opened his eyes and was flabbergasted to see Ducky and Abby standing before him. He jumped to his feet, albeit too quickly and swayed considerably.

"Steady on, Anthony," Ducky said, catching the wounded agent. "You shouldn't rush yourself, especially after losing so much blood."

"Ducky, what are you doing here?" Tony asked unable to hide his surprise.

"Well, we were hardly going to sit by and let you go through this alone," Ducky replied. Abby brushed past him and gave Tony a gentle hug.

"Timothy and Ziva are here also. They're just checking us in to the motel," Ducky replied. Abby's eyes were trained on Gibbs lying so still in the bed.

"So, how is Jethro?" Ducky asked, knowing that's what Abby was afraid to ask.

"I….. I don't really know," Tony admitted, sounding troubled. "I'd never seen him like that before, Ducky. He was acting so strangely, Duck, it was like he was a different man."

"I'm afraid that was the arsenic, Tony. It is known to cause neurological episodes. He didn't know what he was doing. My worry is that the damage is not always reversible," Ducky explained. "I do wish he had gone to the hospital when I first told him."

"Me too," Tony replied.

"He is going to be okay, though, right Ducky?" Abby asked with trepidation.

"It's too early to tell, Abby. This chelation therapy he's receiving will give him every possible chance of a full recovery," Ducky replied, scanning the chart at the end of Gibbs' bed.

"And how are you?" Ducky enquired, turning back to face Tony.

"Better than the boss anyway," Tony replied bravely. "I'll be fine."

"And where is Mr. Franks?" Ducky asked, only then remembering that he was the reason Gibbs and Tony had been in Mexico in the first place.

"Last I heard he was still at sea, another day out," Tony replied.

"What happened out there?" Ducky asked curiously.

"It's a long story, Ducky. How about I tell you over a bite to eat? I'm starving," Tony replied.

"Good idea. I don't think Jethro will mind us leaving him for a short while," Ducky said. "Are you going to join us Abby?"

"I think I'll sit with Gibbs for a while," Abby replied, pulling up a chair and taking hold of Gibbs' hand.

Ducky and Tony walked the short distance to the hospital cafeteria. The menu was limited, but they both found something adequate and sat at a table together. Tony relayed the story of the jailbreak, their escape from Mexico and Raul's demise at the hands of Mike Franks. Inwardly Ducky was relieved in the knowledge that if Raul Hernandez was dead, then his good friend would not have to spend his life looking over his shoulder. He just hoped that Jethro would make a full recovery to enable him to enjoy that life.

By the time they returned to Gibbs in the ICU, McGee and Ziva were waiting there with Abby. They stood in silence, their faces bearing troubled expressions. Abby still clung to Gibbs' hand as if his life depended on it. Ducky decided that there was no need for them to be so negative. He had to snap them out of their depression.

"My goodness, what are you like? It's not a wake you know! Do you really think it would do Jethro any good to wake up and see your demoralized faces staring back at him?" Ducky said crossly. "He'll think he's dying if he looks at your morbid expressions. Now come on, that's enough of that! Perk up or wait outside, doctor's orders," Ducky said insistently.

The agents and forensic tech looked up, thoroughly shocked at Ducky's outburst. Once the initial surprise abated, they realised that he was right. Abby spoke up.

"You're right, Ducky. We need to be filling this room with positive energy. Gibbs needs to know that we're here for him, don't you Gibbs?" she said, turning back to the man in the bed.

"Of course you are right, Ducky," Ziva said speaking up. "Gibbs is one of the strongest men I know. He'll be right as main!"

"Rain!" Tony and McGee corrected her use of idiom in unison.

"That also," Ziva replied. "You know what I mean."

They nodded in agreement. After so long as a team, they did indeed know her and her infamous misuse of idioms all too well. As they continued conversing, a nurse entered Gibbs' ICU room and stood with her hands on her hips, obviously unimpressed with something.

"You all can't be in here," she told them cantankerously. "Only family allowed and no more than two at a time."

"We are family," Abby snapped, not even turning to look at the nurse.

"Okay, Nurse," Ducky replied, understanding hospital policy and hoping to smooth the situation.

"There is a family waiting room down the hall and to the left if you'd like to wait there," she told them, mellowing slightly.

"Thank you," Ducky said. "We will, won't we?"

The others nodded and agreed reluctantly. They realised that there wasn't much point in them all being there at the same time. Ducky had a suggestion.

"Why don't we stay with him in rotation? Anthony, I think you should go to the motel and get some rest before you fall down," Ducky said seriously. "Timothy, why don't you and Ziva take him?"

McGee and Ziva didn't argue. It was plain for everyone to see that Tony was fading fast. Every ounce of energy had pretty much evaporated and his pain meds were wearing off. He looked haggard and drawn. Ziva knew he needed to rest more than anything and, to his surprise, she took hold of his elbow and carefully guided him out of the room. McGee took his cue and followed, bidding farewell to Ducky and Abby.

"Call us if there's any change," McGee said as he exited. Ducky and Abby promised to do so.

The hours passed slowly. Ducky left the room to get coffee and sandwiches. As he walked along the corridor, his cell phone rang. He didn't recognise the Washington number as he answered.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Mallard? This is Dr. Hilary Redmond. I'm trying to get in touch with Agent Gibbs. I've noticed that he hadn't arranged his next appointment. I've left several messages and he hasn't returned any of them, which is unusual. I wanted to check that he's all right," she said, the genuine concern evident in her voice.

"Ah, Dr. Redmond," Ducky said, surprised by the unexpected call. "Well, actually, I'm in Pensacola, Florida, at the moment. I'm visiting Jethro in hospital here. It is a long story. He's actually quite unwell and, to be honest, I'm very concerned."

"Oh my goodness," Dr. Redmond exclaimed. "I knew something was wrong when he didn't return my calls. What happened?" she asked.

"He's suffering from arsenic poisoning," Ducky informed her.

"Oh no! How serious?" she asked, knowing from her medical school training the implications.

"Tests have shown that the dose was relatively mild, thankfully, but it was almost 24 hours before he received treatment. He's undergoing chelation therapy at the moment. We're uncertain what damage has been caused. He had to be sedated because some neurological symptoms caused him to act erratically. Until he's conscious, we won't really know the outcome," Ducky explained. There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"Maybe, I should, em, come down there," Dr. Redmond said hesitantly. "I mean, maybe I should be there, you know, if he needs to talk."

"Oh," Ducky said, unable to hide his surprise. He started to see through the good doctor and realised that she may have more than a professional interest in Gibbs. "If you think it would help, of course, you'd be more than welcome."

"Good. Okay then. I'll check when the next flight is," she said, sounding slightly awkward, almost embarrassed.

Ducky continued on to the cafeteria and considered the call from Dr. Redmond. When he returned, he told Abby the story of the strange call over their meal and explained that Jethro had been seeing Dr. Redmond on a professional basis ever since his first Mexican ordeal. Abby was glad to hear that Gibbs was talking to someone about it because she could not help but worry that he was bottling up a lot of what had happened. She also agreed with his assumption that there was something more than professional going on with this lady.

"I can't wait to meet her, Duck," Abby said, like an excited child.

"Well, looks like you're going to get your wish, because she's flying down as soon as she can get a flight," Ducky told her. Abby could not contain the widening grin on her face. She looked at the unconscious man in the bed beside her.

_Gibbs, you crafty old fox!!_

**_A/N - as you've been so kind to me, I've decided not to drag out the ending any longer! Read on and let me know what you think. Thanks for all of your reviews and comments. _**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

It was late that first night in Pensacola before Ducky noticed the first signs that Gibbs was regaining consciousness. He alerted Abby, who was dozing in the chair beside Gibbs' bed. There had been a change in Gibbs' breathing and the former relaxed expression on his face had disappeared. His eyelids started to flutter and Abby leaned close, took his hand in hers, and spoke softly to him.

"Gibbs?"

Eventually after a few attempts, he managed to open his eyes. He looked around the room and recognised Ducky and Abby looking down anxiously upon him.

"Welcome back, Jethro!" Ducky said with delight. Gibbs' brow furrowed as he struggled to remember where he was and how he had gotten there.

"Where am I?" he asked, barely audible.

"The Medical Institute in Pensacola," Abby told him. Her answer seemed to add to his confusion. There was something important, something he had to deal with but it wouldn't come to him. Flashes of the last few days flickered in his mind, but he was unable to put them in context. Ducky could see he was trying to remember and didn't wish to see him further distressed, so he decided to tell him what had happened.

"You were poisoned, Jethro. The symptoms often include confusion and memory loss, but don't worry, it will come back," he said optimistically, hoping he was correct.

Gibbs turned his head away and Abby thought for a moment that she saw a tear run down his cheek. He was remembering something, she was sure of that, something painful.

"What is it, Gibbs?" Abby asked, squeezing his hand to reassure him. Gibbs couldn't bear to look at either of them. He knew they had to blame him. Images of Tony's body floating face down in the water were evoked in flashes. Tony was dead, he was sure of it, and it was his fault. Abby would never forgive him.

"Gibbs, talk to me," Abby pleaded. Witnessing his anguish pained her.

"I'm sorry, Abs," he said, unable to look her in the eye.

"Sorry? This is hardly your fault, Gibbs," Abby said, annoyed that he was blaming himself.

"He'd still be alive if it wasn't for me," Gibbs said, sounding as if his heart was breaking.

"Who are you talking about, Jethro? Not Hernandez?" Ducky asked, greatly confused at Gibbs' unexpected sorrow.

"Hernandez? No! DiNozzo!" Gibbs choked, hardly able to say his name.

"Tony?" Abby said, looking over at Ducky, somewhat perplexed. Gibbs bit his bottom lip and tried to bite back his emotions.

"Jethro, Anthony is fine, well if you discount the hole in his shoulder, but he's recovering. I sent him back to the motel with McGee and Ziva to get some rest," Ducky explained.

Gibbs' tear-filled eyes looked at him, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or just trying to spare him from an horrific reality.

"He's really okay?" Gibbs asked in disbelief.

"He's exhausted but he's fine," Ducky replied.

Gibbs released a deep sigh of relief combined with a nervous snigger.

"I thought he…." Gibbs began, then decided not to even think it. He felt so tired. "I saw him…..," he mumbled as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"Don't wear yourself out, Jethro. You've been through quite a bit these last few days. You need to rest," Ducky recommended, placing a comforting hand on his old friend's shoulder.

Gibbs' eyes felt heavy. His chest felt tight and his head ached. Despite needing to find out more about what happened, his body rejected that notion and he was soon drawn back into slumber. While he slept, the first bout of chelation therapy ended. The doctors drew more blood to see what effect the therapy was having. It would take several more rounds of therapy to completely cleanse the body of the toxin. Later into the night Ducky and Abby left Gibbs' bedside and returned to the motel for some much needed sleep while Tony and Ziva stayed with Gibbs.

It was early the next morning before Gibbs woke again. He was surprised to see Tony asleep in a chair next to his bed, his left arm in a sling. He lay there and watched his senior agent sleep. Pictures of Tony's body floating in the sea leapt into his head again and he was trying to make sense of the images when the door of his room opened and Ziva entered carrying two coffees. She immediately noticed the piercing blue eyes follow her as she entered.

"Gibbs, you're awake," she said softly, trying not to wake Tony.

"How long have you been here?" Gibbs asked, trying to raise himself slightly.

"Since midnight," Ziva replied. As she spoke, Tony woke suddenly and bolted upright.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, as the movement sent a not-so-gentle reminder from his injured shoulder. His right arm immediately went up to soothe the injury. Turning in the chair, he then noticed Gibbs watching him intently.

"Boss! You're awake!" he said, stating the obvious.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. He hauled his aching body into a seated position.

"Me, Boss? Yeah, I'm good," he said a little embarrassed. "I'm more worried about you."

"I'm fine, DiNozzo. Don't I look fine?" Gibbs asked, sounding serious but actually teasing. Tony didn't know what to say, so chose to lie.

"Sure you do," he said, glancing at Ziva. "Doesn't he, Ziva?"

Ziva shot Tony a cutting glare before answering.

"Em, yes, Gibbs. You look much better," she lied. Gibbs smiled at their theatrics.

"You two really couldn't lie to save your lives," he sneered. "That coffee smells good."

"No you don't," Tony interjected immediately. "Nil by mouth," he pointed out. He took the coffee from Ziva and deliberately opened the lid of the coffee cup and cruelly allowed the aroma to tantalize Gibbs before taking huge, greedy mouthfuls. "Mmmm."

"You know DiNozzo, some day you'll pay for that," Gibbs said with a twisted smile.

They continued the warm-hearted banter for a while before Gibbs began asking Tony questions about what had happened the last few days.

"Maybe you can help me fill in some blanks," Gibbs said hopefully. "Like where's Mike?"

"That's a good question," Tony replied. "I'm presuming he's still playing Captain Ahab on board the Jolita, heading towards port. Do you remember trying to shoot down our rescuers?"

Gibbs looked at him as though he was mad.

"Seriously, you emptied your clip at the Seahawk that came to airlift us to the Ronald Reagan," Tony told him.

"Really?" Gibbs asked, cringing.

"You missed though…. I guess arsenic affects your aim as well. Lucky for us, eh?" Tony joked. He was relieved to see Gibbs smile. He was almost back to his old self. What he witnessed on board the Jolita had really upset him. He thought he'd lost his mentor and friend for good.

Throughout the day, Gibbs underwent another session of chelation therapy. McGee called in to see him later that day and soon after Abby and Ducky returned. By then, Gibbs was nauseous as a result of the infusion of chelation agents and was introverted for most of the day. He just lay on his side, watching the chemicals drip into his arm and only wanted to be left alone. Ducky could tell how uncomfortable Gibbs felt having his team see him so ill and made up an excuse for them to leave him alone.

Later that evening, Ducky returned to find Gibbs dozing peacefully, the drip having been removed from his arm, albeit temporarily. He sat for a while, allowing Gibbs to wake of his own accord.

"Good evening, Jethro," Ducky said cheerily. "How are you feeling this evening?"

Gibbs felt weary and drained but tried his best not to be rude to his friend.

"I'm okay, Duck," he said unconvincingly.

"Good," Ducky replied, "Because you have a visitor."

"Aw, Duck, maybe tomorrow," Gibbs suggested, not overly impressed at the prospect.

"Trust me, you'll want to see her," Ducky smiled wryly. "You wily old dog! You never even mentioned any of this to me."

Gibbs looked at Ducky, wondering what on earth he was talking about. He was about to ask when Ducky walked to the door and stuck his head out, motioning the person outside to come in. Gibbs couldn't believe his eyes when he saw her coming through the door like a vision. It was Dr. Redmond, his therapist.

"Hilary…..Dr. Redmond!" Gibbs said, unable to hide his surprise.

"Agent Gibbs," she said awkwardly.

"I'll leave you two alone," Ducky said none too subtly.

Gibbs looked at the woman standing before him. She was dressed casually, her auburn hair hung down around her face, quite the opposite to her prim professional image.

"What are you doing here?" Gibbs asked eventually.

"I called Dr. Mallard, wondering why you hadn't arranged your appointment. He told me what had happened and I …. I was worried. I had to come. I hope you don't mind," she said shyly.

"Not at all, it's just so ……..unexpected," Gibbs admitted.

"So how are you?" she asked kindly.

"Truth be told, I'm feeling a bit out of it. I'm having trouble remembering what happened," he told her.

"It'll come back. I can help you," she said, moving closer to him.

"So is this a house call, then?" Gibbs asked.

"If it makes you feel more comfortable, sure. It can be a house call," Hilary replied with ease.

"Do you do this for all your clients?" Gibbs asked with a flirtatious smile.

"Not all of them," Dr. Redmond replied coyly.

"Well, if I'd known you did house calls, then I'd have arranged one a lot sooner," he grinned cheekily. She laughed at his self-assurance and deep down was relieved to see that he was well. In fact he seemed much better than she had been led to believe.

They talked for a while, her presence taking Gibbs' mind off his nausea and headache.

About thirty minutes later, Abby and Tony entered Gibbs' room with more than their usual zeal. They looked around the room, as if expecting to see someone.

"Hey, Boss," Tony said suspiciously.

"Hi, Gibbs," Abby said, just as strangely. "Are you alone?"

"Not any more," he replied frowning.

"I mean, I heard you had a visitor," Abby said inquisitively.

"Did you? And I wonder who gave you that idea?" Gibbs asked.

"Ducky," Tony replied, sniffing the air. "Boss, are you wearing perfume?" Tony asked foolishly.

"Nope."

"Hah! Then you did have a visitor….a female visitor," Abby surmised much to Gibbs' amusement. The next minute, the toilet in the adjoining bathroom was flushed and a tall, red haired beauty emerged. Tony's jaw almost hit the floor and Abby smiled the widest smile she had ever.

"Tony, close your mouth," Gibbs said to his senior agent.

Tony extended his hand to the stunning woman in front of him.

"Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said, turning on the charm.

"Nice to meet you," Hilary said as Tony kissed the back of her hand. Gibbs threw his eyes to heaven.

"Dr. Hilary Redmond, meet Abby Sciuto," Gibbs said by way of introduction.

Abby shook her hand before giving her a friendly hug. Hilary was a little overawed by her enthusiasm.

"Gibbs, why didn't you tell me?" Abby said crossly.

"Tell you what, Abs?"

"You know…that you and she were, you know," Abby replied vaguely.

"What? Oh no, we're not….I mean I'm not…..," Gibbs stammered. "We're not!"

Dr. Redmond smiled at Gibbs' embarrassment and obvious discomfort in front of his friends. She decided to give them some fuel for their fire. She walked over to Gibbs and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He turned and looked up at her in astonishment.

"You didn't tell them, sweetie?" she said, running her hands through his hair.

Tony almost collapsed with gossip overload and shock and Abby was already thinking about what hat to wear for the wedding. Gibbs, on the other hand, didn't know where to look, let alone what to say. He wondered if this was all a trick of his mind and maybe he was going to wake up any second.

"Would you mind giving us some privacy? I haven't seen him in days and, well, you know…" she said to Tony and Abby as suggestively as she could.

Tony could hardly contain himself and made a swift exit, chuckling like a schoolboy as he left. Abby nodded in approval and gave Hilary a subtle wink on her way out. Dr. Redmond burst out laughing as the two left the room. Then she realised that Gibbs wasn't laughing.

"Ah, come on, that was fun!" she laughed.

"Seriously? Too bad none of its true," Gibbs replied with a scowl on his face.

"It can be," Hilary smiled, making her feelings known.

"It can? I thought you guys had rules about this sort of thing," Gibbs said, still confused.

"We do, but if you want to, I can refer you to a colleague, then I won't be your doctor anymore. Problem solved," she suggested.

He looked at her incredulously. He still wasn't sure if this was actually happening.

"Can I just ask you something?" he said to her.

"Sure!"

"Am I awake?" he asked very seriously. She laughed and then leaned down and kissed him passionately on the lips. He savoured the kiss for several seconds after she withdrew and then opened his eyes. She was standing there staring at him, smiling.

"Real enough for you?" she asked.

"Wow," was all he could say.

"So, maybe when you get back on your feet, you'd like to take me to dinner?" she suggested to the stunned agent.

"Absolutely," he replied. "You're the best incentive any guy needs to recover quickly."

"Gosh, you say the sweetest things," she said sarcastically. "Well, I'd better leave you alone. Ducky warned me not to wear you out. I'll come by in the morning, if you'd like?"

"Sure, I'd certainly like," Gibbs replied, his eyes following every move of her curvaceous body as she walked to the door. "Goodnight."

Gibbs lay back with a broad smile on his face. That was totally unexpected, he thought.

The next morning, Gibbs was trying to eat some breakfast when he heard the gravely tones of Mike Franks as he entered his room.

"Jesus, Probie, you look like shit!" Mike said immediately.

"I've been poisoned, what's your excuse?" Gibbs responded with a smile, as Mike took his hand and pulled him into a man hug.

"The doc tells me you're going to be all right," Mike said, taking a piece of toast from Gibbs' plate.

"Thanks to you and DiNozzo," Gibbs said humbly. Mike didn't comment. He wasn't good with praise.

"Sit down, Mike," Gibbs said motioning him towards the chair. "Now, can you tell me what happened out there? Tony only remembers bits and, well, my memory is sketchy to say the least."

"Okay, tell me what you remember," Mike said, taking the chair.

Gibbs told him the flashes of memories that popped into his mind every now and again. Mike was able to clarify where they fit in the whole scheme of things. As Mike told the story, he finished the breakfast that Gibbs still wasn't able to stomach. When Mike got to the part where he shot and killed Raul Hernandez, he saw Gibbs' whole being relax. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

Raul Hernandez was dead. Gibbs could have his life back and who knows, maybe good things were on the horizon!

**The End**

**A/N - special thanks to my Beta, Diane!! Hope you enjoyed. **


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